All That You Are
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Elsa has only just managed to get her life in order after being in a horrific accident years ago. Things get complicated when a new neighbour moves in. Anna is wheelchair-bound from a tragic accident that also killed her parents - the same accident Elsa caused. Guilt-ridden, Elsa tries to hide her past from Anna, not wanting to hurt her again, even as they grow closer... modern!AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This fic started out as a prompt from the **elsannapromptcentral** community on Tumblr that couldn't get out of my head – fortituously, just before NaNoWriMo. _Et voila_ , enjoy. The title comes from the Whitney Houston song _I Have Nothing_.

* * *

 _She's running late._

 _If she had put her textbook back into her bag last night like she meant to – if she hadn't forgotten there wasn't anything in the house to eat because the maid was away, visiting her family – if she hadn't stayed up so late watching bad comedy shows and overslept –_

 _Plenty of regrets but they won't get her to class on time. Good thing she has a shiny new car – her father's not the most demonstrative kind, but he does spoil her sometimes. She's not the youngest person to drive herself to school, but few can say they own the car they drive at their age._

 _Taking a hard left, she slows down to work her way around the junction and still manages to obstruct the lane beside her. She still hasn't quite mastered the art of driving yet._

 _The next light is red. She speeds past, doesn't look back – she's in a hurry, nothing happened, and she needs to focus on the junction ahead. This light's flashing amber, but she knows this road; she can make it, she's done this before, she just needs to time this just right –_

 _One moment the road is clear, the next it isn't. She barely makes out a black sedan and the terrified eyes staring back at her before time stops._

 _Her body jolts hard, roaring fills her ears, and she doesn't remember what happens next._

* * *

Elsa didn't really notice when the apartment opposite hers found an occupant one afternoon; not until her shoe hit a box.

It wasn't really her fault; she was completely preoccupied with her latest project. Even if the company's CEO wasn't required to give her fullest attention to the design process, Elsa felt obligated to supervise the team and the creative process, though she was less than happy about it; the slight nervous tic of her hand was the only outward sign of her irritation.

The project was big – their client, a major biomedical firm, was moving their headquarters to their city and wanted North Mountain Architecture to design their new building. As per her office manager Kai's recommendation, she had asked one of her senior partners to take charge of the project, confident that his design aesthetic was on par with theirs.

She was thankful to have the senior partners and Kai, really. When her father had died suddenly, the management of North Mountain fell on her relatively inexperienced shoulders. The partners had agreed to focus on clients while Kai guided her through a CEO's day-to-day workload. No one could accuse Elsa of not trying her best, though; despite being relatively fresh out of architecture school, she threw herself into her additional duties and relied heavily on the senior staff members' guidance. The senior architects were happy to work under her because of the name she carried. She didn't want to disappoint them.

It still felt unreal, like she was only holding down the fort until her father returned. She was expecting him to walk into the office like he always had any moment now, briefcase in hand.

She had been completely lost in thought, engrossed in project management and clients, so when her shoe hit a box, Elsa's first reaction was to walk around it, not even breaking her stride – which was quickly thwarted when she kicked a crate with considerably more force. Luckily, her sensible black heels were sturdy enough to absorb most of the impact, with the additional effect of bringing her back to her immediate surroundings.

When she looked up, she realised the corridor was littered with boxes of all shapes and sizes, completely obscuring her front door. Colourfully-wrapped bundles broke up the beige monotony here and there, strongly resembling Santa's workshop in the Christmas season.

"What…?" She stopped outside where she supposed her front door was; nudging aside the tower of boxes a fraction confirmed its location. There was no way around it (quite literally). Elsa put down her briefcase so she could shove the boxes to one side. They wobbled dangerously, and the blonde's breath caught when the one on top teetered and nearly fell –

She slapped her hand on it. The box stayed. Elsa breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is someone there?"

She squinted. One of the piles appeared to be – moving…?

"Um, hello?"

"Oh! Hi!" The voice appeared to be coming from one of the boxes, marked 'Kitchen' and striped with FRAGILE stickers. "Sorry – give me a moment…" And then it was lowered to the ground to reveal a young woman with auburn hair in two rather frazzled braids. "Sorry – I'm a little stuck at the moment, otherwise I would go over there."

"Not a problem," said Elsa. "I'm sorry I knocked over your things."

"Oh, no! It's not your fault!" She waved her free hand frantically at Elsa. "The moving guys thought it was funny to unload the _entire_ truck here since 'it was just one load and we have other clients this afternoon missy'." She sounded huffy. "You'd think they'd at least offer to lend a hand given…" The voice faltered, and then started. "Sorry, don't mind me, I'm talking to myself. Hey, I'm really sorry about the mess."

The blonde smiled politely even though she couldn't really see the girl. "It's not a problem."

"Glad you think so." The girl disappeared back into the forest, and then her head popped out from another gap in the box towers. "Give me ten minutes, I'll have everything tidied up before you can say chocolate chip cookies…" A dull thud from inside, followed by a muttered curse. "Uh… maybe fifteen."

"Tell you what," said Elsa. "If you'd hang on for a minute, I'll change out of these clothes and give you a hand."

The girl stuck her head out again, looking alarmed; there was another loud thump like she had dropped something, but the redhead paid it no heed. "It's alright, really! I wouldn't want to impose on you – we've only just met, and I'm already pressing you into slave labour…"

"It's nothing like that." Elsa was already unbuttoning her blazer. "I'm happy to help a new neighbour." She slipped into her apartment, deaf to muffled protests, a small thrill of warmth seeping through her body. Her therapist would have been so proud. When was the last time she'd talked to someone outside work? Three years of living in Arendelle Heights, and Elsa was only on a 'nod and smile' basis with the other people that lived on her floor – chiefly the family from Scotland, and the young man who mostly kept to himself. She didn't even know their names.

At the very least, she had interacted with her immediate neighbour. It was a start. _Baby steps, Elsa, that's the best way to start._ She could almost hear Gerda's warm, motherly voice.

When Elsa had lost her mother, Agdar, worried that he would be unable to handle his daughter on his own, had thought therapy would help Elsa adjust – which it had, through her teenage years. After the accident that had nearly destroyed years of progress, Elsa had continued seeing Gerda, the therapist painstakingly putting her back together.

At least, she could be proud of the person she was today. Elsa's social anxiety had been, at one point, so bad that she would physically flee when confronted with difficult social situations. She could consider herself a well-adjusted and mature adult today, despite the major setback caused by the accident; panic attacks were few and far in between, easily managed with the exercises she knew by heart.

She put her thoughts to the back of her mind with a practiced ease. _Conceal, don't feel._

Her blazer went on the coat rack, the rest of her power suit into the laundry basket. When Elsa emerged from her apartment, clad in sweatpants and a T-shirt, the corridor was already half-empty. More thudding and cursing sounded from the ajar door opposite her unit. Elsa knocked on the door.

"Hey, it's me. I'll just move the rest of the boxes inside, okay?"

"Yes, thanks!"

"Here we go," said Elsa to herself. She selected a middling box, easing her fingers underneath, and hauling it into the empty apartment. A rather battered-looking couch occupied pride of place in the centre of what Elsa guessed would be a living room. Apart from that, a cardboard city of boxes filled most of the available space, save for a highway that Elsa presumed led towards the rooms. It brought back memories from when she moved house.

She remembered getting the keys to her apartment three years ago, as a graduation present from her father. The agent's rendition of the various features of the house had faded away into the background as she stepped in, already planning the layout, colour schemes – a job hazard of being a professional architect who dabbled in interior design.

Moving in hadn't been a much of a chore. The professional movers Elsa's father had hired ensured the few things Elsa owned were transported safely and efficiently. Father and daughter were able to celebrate with a glass of wine on Elsa's new sofa that evening.

It was one of the memories of her father she held dearly; the normally immaculate man with his collar unbuttoned and expression relaxed, sitting beside her.

She went back to her work. The boxes, much to her surprise, were fairly light, which probably explained why there were so many of them.

Just as Elsa was setting down the last of the boxes, a voice drifted over to her from one of the rooms: "Thanks again for helping – you didn't have to, you know, but I appreciate it."

"It's no trouble at all – really," replied Elsa. "Can I leave this here in the living room?"

"Please. Don't worry about unpacking – I'll air my own dirty laundry, thanks."

Elsa laughed.

"Just so you know, I insist on buying you dinner." The girl reappeared, and Elsa blinked; earlier, she had only gotten a glimpse of her newest neighbour. She could see now that the girl's hair wasn't truly red – shifting between auburn and russet in the late afternoon sunlight – and a multitude of freckles dotted her skin.

She was also seated in a wheelchair, a bundle balanced in her lap, wearing a faded T-shirt and equally worn jeans.

Deftly, she single-handedly maneuvered the chair over to Elsa – bundle wobbling threateningly – who was doing her best not to stare. "I'm Anna Iversen," she said, offering a callused hand and a smile, "and I'm – as you've probably guessed – moving in today. Pleased to meet you."

Anna Iversen. She knew that name.

Elsa's stomach plummeted, and it took all of her considerable self-control to reach out and take Anna's hand, plastering on a smile as though nothing was wrong. "Elsa Brundtland," she said through the sudden tightness in her throat. "Welcome to Arendelle Heights."

Anna's grin widened. "Glad to be here, neighbor. I hope everyone is as friendly as you are." She jerked her head at the door. "Give me a minute to unpack a few of the essentials, and then I'll call for pizza. Do you have any likes, dislikes? Are you one of those people who think anchovies on pizza is an abomination?"

"Do you… need any more help?" Elsa was torn between wanting to flee at the first opportunity, and automatic concern for the young woman in the chair. She kept her voice neutral for fear of offending Anna – though, from the shadow that flickered over the redhead's face, she hadn't been successful.

"I can manage," answered Anna lightly. "Besides, my brother will be here later to help out."

"Ah. I see." _Anna Iversen, red hair, wheelchair. It was too much of a coincidence; it had to be her._

"Elsa?"

Elsa realised she'd been asked a question; she shook herself from her reverie, clearing her throat in embarrassment. "I – actually, I've just remembered I have something I need to do. I'm really sorry."

"Oh." Anna looked disappointed. "That's too bad. Another time maybe? I owe you food for making you work."

"Please, don't bother." She tried to keep it together, tried not to let the blind panic show. As it were, Elsa could barely hear Anna over the sound of her pounding heart. "I'll see you another time, then."

Anna followed her to the door. "Thanks again, Elsa. It was nice meeting you." One last freckled grin, and Elsa fought the urge to run.

"Likewise."

Once she was safe behind her locked front door, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number with trembling fingers.

"Mr. Kristiansen? Sorry to bother you this late, but – "

"Elsa! For goodness' sake, this must be the thousandth time I've told you to call me Olaf. It's nice to hear from you. How are things?" He always sounded warm and cheerful no matter the time of day.

"Fine, but that's not the reason I was calling…"

"I'm sorry! You're right. What can I do for you?"

"It's about Miss Iversen…" Elsa chewed on her lower lip, struggling to collect her thoughts. "She's moved to the unit opposite mine."

"Wait, what?"

"… she didn't tell you?"

"I only heard she was moving out of her foster family's house," said the social worker, sounding perplexed, "but she didn't say where she was moving to." A chuckle. "What a coincidence."

"Didn't she call to tell you?" pressed Elsa. "Did you ask her foster parents? You _are_ her social worker, after all, and one of my father's stipulations was that you are to be informed before she makes any major decisions."

"Anna _is_ pretty willful." She could practically feel the man shrug. "The things she gets up to! Why, her Ma was just telling me the other day – "

" – _Mr. Kristiansen_ , perhaps you could share that anecdote about _Miss Iversen_ with me another day," interrupted Elsa. "But for now, if it's not too much trouble, could you call her and ask her if she has any special reasons for moving here?"

"You mean, if she can be convinced to move anywhere else but next door?"

Elsa flushed, thankful he couldn't see her face. "Y-yes."

"Always so formal," said Olaf, completely unruffled by the iciness in Elsa's voice. "But yes. Funny, isn't it, when you and your father insist on your distance and she moves in right next door!"

The blonde didn't respond to that. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone.

"I'll call her, and get back to you on that. But really, dear, you must drop by my office some time. There's a lovely café nearby, we can have lunch. I'm not called a social worker for nothing!"

"I'll try and make time for that," said Elsa amidst the man's guffaws, "thank you for the invitation, Mr. Kris – Olaf."

"Anytime, Elsa."

She said her goodbyes and hung up. Her stomach growled the next instant, reminding her she hadn't had dinner, and she had turned down pizza. Elsa went to contemplate the contents of her fridge: to her dismay, there wasn't much since she had forgotten to go grocery shopping last weekend.

"Great."

She collapsed on the sofa, running through her options mentally. The most obvious course of action was to pop downstairs for takeaway, but there was a chance that Anna would see her leaving or coming back, and be hurt that the blonde was avoiding her. Elsa wasn't sure why she was so concerned about what Anna – no, _Miss Iversen_ – thought of her. Anna Iversen was supposed to be the person who only existed as a transfer record in her bank statement. Elsa had even requested Olaf not show her photos so she could remain as emotionally distant as possible.

 _All that for naught_ , she thought bitterly.

Well, the situation wasn't completely hopeless. She would wait for Olaf to call her back before deciding what to do. If money was a problem, well – Elsa would simply increase the amount sent in her monthly cheques. Olaf could handle the paperwork for her. In the worst-case scenario, Elsa would move.

She glanced around the room, feeling a pang of regret. She would miss the apartment, of course, as her first home on her own, but some sacrifices had to be made for the good of everyone.

* * *

It was past midnight by the time Elsa summoned the courage to leave her apartment. Gerda would have been appalled; years of work, undone in an afternoon.

She hadn't been completely idle, of course; the blonde had found it surprisingly easy to focus on her latest project despite the excitement of her afternoon. Elsa had managed to complete her latest chapter and send it to her editor ahead of schedule, even managing to draft the next chapter.

Architecture was strictly a profession for her; she'd studied it to please her father but Elsa's true passion was writing. She'd started out – like most young adults – with fanfiction on Tumblr, but decided to focus on original fiction as a reprieve from college, publishing her work under a pseudonym. Elsa didn't want to mix the different aspects of her life – more specifically, she didn't want anyone from the firm to know that their boss, shy, withdrawn Elsa Brundtland, wrote bestselling murder mysteries in her spare time.

Elsa had been so engrossed, she'd forgotten she hadn't eaten until she glanced at her clock and remembered – though it had taken a while to work up her nerve.

The lights were still on in Anna's – Miss Iversen's – place. The blonde forced herself not to linger, darting into the lift as the doors slid open.

She made her way around the corner to her usual take-out place. It was greasy and perpetually packed with surly customers. Elsa didn't like it for its food, or the ambience; it was open 24 hours a day, and despite being a regular, she was treated with complete indifference by the staff. It was refreshing to be anonymous.

The young CEO was back at her apartment within the hour, takeout carton in one hand, the other holding her keys, ready to lunge into the house.

It was just her rotten luck, then, when Anna's door swung open.

"Oh," said the girl, a black garbage bag in her lap. "You're still up?"

Elsa managed a weak smile. "I could say the same for you."

"Heh. I've always been a night owl, even in the face of 9am classes." She wheeled into the corridor and hesitated. "... Um, do you know where the garbage chute is?"

"End of the corridor to your right, past the lift, and on your left," replied Elsa.

"Thanks." Anna smiled at her in passing.

"Wait!"

"Hmm?"

"I, um." Elsa knew the chute was cantankerous, needing both hands to yank the rusting door open. She simply couldn't imagine the redhead wrestling with something at her eye level without the benefit of leverage. "I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, but… would you like a hand?"

"I mean," she continued lamely, "the chute isn't easy to get open for the rest of us, and it's your first time using it, so..."

"You're not being presumptuous at all, don't worry," said Anna easily, waiting until Elsa caught up with her, letting her wheelchair glide along at walking pace. "It's pretty hard to offend me. I mean, I'm already the same height as grade school kids."

Elsa smiled despite herself. "You're very optimistic." _For someone who had everything taken from her in an afternoon_ , supplied her brain. She ignored it.

"In addition to my stunning good looks and sparkling wit." Anna burst out laughing at Elsa's expression. "I'm only joking, of course!"

"Right," managed the blonde. She had never been good at social situations, let alone with someone whom she shared a history with. Elsa wasn't entirely sure how to handle herself in the face of Anna's cheerfulness – and the constant reminder of her mistake.

"Oh, is that it?" Anna pointed at the chrome rectangle built into the wall. Elsa nodded.

"Here, let me – "

"Let me have a go first?"

The blonde shrugged helplessly. Anna reached for the garbage chute handle, cursing as the metal creaked but remained firmly shut. "Wow, it's jammed tight. You weren't joking when you said it was tough."

"Here, I'll show you the trick we all use." Elsa thumped her fist on the lower corner of the door, once, twice; she yanked hard on the handle, and it gave.

Anna whistled appreciatively. "Beautiful, and talented to boot."

There was a pause as Elsa turned pink, and Anna looked like she wanted to dive head-first into the chute. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to – well, I did mean it, but in a totally non-creepy way, and – you know what? I'm just going to throw this in, and then melt into the ground. It was nice knowing you."

"I – um – thank you," responded Elsa automatically. Her first instinct was always good manners, something drilled into her from childhood.

Anna giggled, but kept her eyes down as she pushed her trash in and shut the chute. They walked – and rolled – down the corridor in silence.

"Well – " Elsa began as they reached their apartments.

" – sorry about that," blurted Anna. "I wasn't – well, I don't think before I talk. Clearly. And I am totally weirding you out, aren't I? Especially now. No, don't answer that." And she slumped into dejected silence so comical, Elsa bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh.

"It's fine. Really."

"It is? I mean, you don't think I'm annoying? Kristoff – my brother – says that all the time."

"Not at all," promised Elsa, and got a shy smile in return.

"Thanks. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome."

Anna glanced at her watch. "Wow, okay. I'm guessing you have work tomorrow? And I have class. I won't keep you any longer, then. Thanks for everything, Elsa. See you around?"

She nodded and smiled, echoing the sentiments, feeling her face grow rigid with effort. It was only when she locked her front door, she remembered she had been holding her takeout carton the entire time.

In the privacy of her home, Elsa covered her face with her hand and let it stay there.

* * *

 _Elsa was fourteen, sitting in the therapist's chair straight-backed and tense, her hands folded in her lap. Gerda was busy with the notes in front of her. Occasionally she would make annotations to the printed paper, the scratching of the pen the only sound in the room._

" _How have you been, Elsa?" she asked without looking up._

" _Fine," said the blonde automatically._

 _Gerda laid her pen down, lifting her gaze to meet Elsa's; she held it for barely a moment before looking away, feeling intensely uncomfortable under the therapist's scrutiny._

 _The older woman sighed. "Elsa dear, I'm not going to judge you or do anything of that sort."_

" _I know that." She suddenly felt ashamed for not being able to look Gerda in the eye. Slowly, she looked back at Gerda, who smiled slightly, acknowledging her gesture._

" _Do you feel like clarifying what's fine? It's alright if you don't feel like talking today. Has anything good happened at school, with your friends?"_

 _Elsa did want to talk. She had done well on her mathematics test, a result she hadn't been expecting because she had had trouble with integration while studying and hadn't been confident in problem-solving. The day before, she had mustered up the courage to say hello to the girl in her after-school club. Her father had taken them out for dinner, and he had been in a good enough mood to share stories about her mother._

 _All of these jumbled in her mind. Despite being well aware that Gerda was not going to judge, criticize, or lecture her, Elsa felt as though it would be stupid to talk about those mundane things that other people did so easily, and was such an uphill task for her. She was fully aware she was different from everyone else in how she thought, and how convoluted her logical processes were – she had learned that the hard way._

 _Gerda said nothing throughout the entire mental struggle, though it must have been plain on Elsa's face; she returned to her notes. Elsa relaxed her shoulders a little, relieved that she was not inconveniencing the therapist by forcing her to wait._

" _I did well on my mathematics test," blurted the girl._

" _Oh? That's good." Gerda laid down her pen again. "I remember you telling me you were worried about it."_

" _Yeah." Math was something Elsa was happy to talk about. "I did the practice questions in the textbook but I wasn't getting the answers, so I thought I was going to have trouble in the test. I was sure I'd just get the marks for doing the workings without the correct answers."_

" _That's a good strategy," said Gerda approvingly, and Elsa glowed with pride. Slowly, haltingly, she continued to talk._

* * *

Elsa went to the office earlier than usual, glad that she had a meeting as her excuse. Mostly, she was paranoid about bumping into Anna again.

Olaf had yet to call back. She was becoming anxious and it was bleeding into her reason, prompting her into rash decisions. The young CEO took a deep breath and held it. It was incredible, really – she observed from a detached corner of her mind – how one person had such a profound effect on her.

"Miss Brundtland?"

Elsa looked up, her manufactured smile becoming genuine when she saw who it was. "Please, Kai; when we're alone, at least, call me Elsa. You've known me since I was a toddler."

"Before that, even, when your father used to bring you to the office in your stroller." He smiled warmly at the memory. "Which means I know you well enough to guess there's something bothering you."

Her smile turned rueful. "I'm an open book, aren't I?"

The portly man chuckled. "Only to me." He folded his hands over each other, patiently waiting for the young woman to elaborate.

Her mouth worked as she struggled to articulate what was on her mind. "It's the girl from the... _accident_. She – she's my new neighbour."

"Oh. Oh dear." Kai said nothing more though his eyes shone with sympathy; she was glad for his silent support.

"It was the first time I'd seen her in years – my first time meeting her, at least. I thought…" Elsa's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap, and the thought went unfinished. "She was so nice. If she knew the truth about me…"

"You're worrying needlessly," said Kai gently. "She isn't going to find out who you are to her. Unless you tell her."

"I know that. But still –"

"– but still nothing," he admonished her. "Everything will turn out fine. Now, I came to let you know that the meeting's about to start."

Elsa had completely forgotten. "O-oh, yes. Thank you, Kai. I'll be there in two minutes."

* * *

 _She'd woken up gradually, the sharp smell of disinfectant filling her senses. Moving hurt, particularly her head, which throbbed furiously when she turned to look around her._

 _This wasn't her room. It looked like a hospital. The last thing she remembered was driving on the road…_

 _Oh gods._

 _Elsa took deep breaths, fighting the rising panic. She was in the hospital, which meant she'd gotten hurt. But she wasn't dead yet._

 _Well, she'd be dead after her father found out._

 _"Oh! You're awake, dearie." A nurse drifted in. "Your father's waiting outside. Shall I call him?"_

 _"Please," croaked Elsa._

 _Her father shut the door after himself. Agdar looked older than his fifty-two years, the lines on his face made horribly apparent by the harsh hospital lighting. She hadn't seen him this worn since her mother's funeral, and felt horrible that she was the cause. "Elsa," he said, a smile creasing his features, "how are you feeling?"_

 _"I'm fine, Papa." She hadn't called him that in years; his expression lost its ponderousness. "I'm sorry."_

" _Shhh, Elsa," he said, "now is not the time for that. What's important is that you are fine. Do you know what happened? How much do you remember?"_

 _Elsa looked down. "I – I remember driving…" She screwed up her eyes. It hurt to think._

 _"You were in an accident. You've got a concussion and a few cuts and bruises, but thankfully that's all." Something hung in the edges of his tone. Elsa felt dread creeping through her veins._

 _"It is?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"What happened to the others?"_

 _Agdar paled. "The others?"_

 _She forced herself to speak. "The other car I hit – I hit someone, didn't I?"_

 _Her father sat down at her bedside, taking her hand in his – an affectionate gesture uncharacteristic of him. "Elsa,_ elskede, _" he began gently, using his old endearment for her, "you're not fully recovered yet. You've only just woken up; you've been asleep for two days – "_

 _" – Tell me," she said, voice quivering. "Please."_

 _He fell silent. "You hit another car and it spun into the traffic light. The driver and front-seat passenger were killed on impact."_

 _Elsa felt like the world was spinning away._

 _"There was a survivor. The passenger in the backseat was trapped in the wreckage; but by the time they got her out, her legs had been crushed." Agdar squeezed his daughter's hands. "The doctors aren't sure if she'll ever walk again."_

 _She was bone-white, whiter than her father. Her hands shook uncontrollably in his. When Agdar stiffly pulled her into a hug, it took her a while before the tears came._

* * *

When she came home late that night, Elsa was relieved to see Anna's windows dark. She set her dinner on the kitchen table and fired up her laptop. There had been several amusing altercations at work that day, and if she retooled it, she could use the material in her next chapter.

Less important today was the progress of the designs. The senior partner in charge, Oaken, had proved to be the right choice for the project; the client had loved the first draft. Privately, Elsa felt that there was too much wood for her tastes, but the client was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Elsa pulled her notepad out of her bag. She always carried one with her, for jotting down ideas and snippets of conversation she heard, to put into her work. It was a relatively easy process to rework the rough idea – and it had even inspired her to introduce a plot twist that would neatly tie up another loose end.

Pleased with her progress, she rewarded herself with Internet time, surfing random websites while she did some research on ballistics for the next chapter. Elsa found herself looking at apartments for sale. She wasn't pleased with the idea; she had grown rather attached to her apartment as it was her first real place of her own, and she had designed and furnished it herself, but Elsa wasn't sure how she was going to spend the rest of her life in close proximity with Anna.

Her phone rang, and she answered it absently, attention still focused on the computer screen.

"Hello, Elsa? It's Olaf."

"Olaf?" Her heart leapt into her throat. "O-oh yes."

"I've spoken with Anna." She could hear the social worker clearing his throat on the other end. "She moved out of her parents' house because she wanted to live independently. I think it's a good idea, really."

"… Wait, what?"

"Anna argued – and I agree – that she has to experience living independently sooner or later, and that she can't continue to rely on family. She's saved up quite a bit of money to rent her apartment _and_ fit it with the modifications she needs; since she's put quite a lot of work into this, I can't help but think that there's nothing wrong with the arrangement."

Olaf's logic was sound, but every word sent a nail into her heart. Anna would certainly benefit, but Elsa couldn't say the same for herself. "… I see."

He clucked sympathetically. "I understand this is hard for you, Elsa, but she's already signed the lease."

"I could always move…"

"That would take time. How about this? Give it a month, and we'll see how the situation develops?"

A month. That felt like an eternity, but Elsa saw no better option. "Alright," she said, forcing cheer into her voice, "a month then."

* * *

 _The police came the next week, stereotypical down to the trench coats and world-weary demeanor. Elsa answered their questions and watched as they scribbled copious notes. Her father remained in the room the entire time, holding her hand._

 _Nothing came out of it all. The surviving girl had no other living relatives and she was in no condition to press charges. The state, her temporary guardian, opted not to take further action since Elsa was a minor and it was an open-and-shut case of driver negligence. Her license was suspended, and she'd been required to pay a fine. Her father was more than prepared to handle that.  
_

" _I'm sorry," said Elsa again once the detectives had left._

 _Agdar shook his head. "What's done is done, and I hope you've learned something from it," was all he said. "Let us not dwell on it. Dr. Sweet said you may be discharged next week, and we will meet with your teachers to discuss making up your schoolwork."_

" _Papa, what about the girl?"_

" _The girl?"_

" _In the other car. What's going to happen to her?"_

 _He frowned. "… I don't know, Elsa. Why is it important?"_

 _"I have to make it up to her." She was well aware that there was nothing that she could do that would ever make things right, but she had to do_ something _.  
_

 _"Elsa…"_

 _"Please."_

 _"… All right." Agdar got up. "I will talk to the detectives. Rest now."_

* * *

 _Anna Iversen – the survivor from the black car – was in the same hospital, though the detectives hadn't disclosed her ward number. She was thirteen years old. Too old to be put up for adoption, too young to be alone in the world._

" _What will happen to her?"_

 _Agdar looked up from the papers in his lap. "She'll continue to be a ward of the state, either in foster care or a state orphanage until she comes of age, the latter being more probable; most people won't take in a teenage foster child, let alone one with special needs." All this was said as gently as possible._

" _Special needs?"_

 _Elsa's father hesitated. "She'll need to be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. The doctors couldn't save her legs."_

 _The future seemed bleak. Guilt gnawed at Elsa's insides. "Isn't there another way? Anything we can do to help?"_

"Elskede, _if you're suggesting we take the girl in – "_

" _No!"_

 _Agdar was startled by the force of her outburst._ " _Elsa?"_

" _No," she repeated, hands trembling, "I can't – she can't know what I did to her."_

 _Her father watched her for a long moment before nodding._

 _They contacted Olaf Kristiansen, the state-appointed social worker in charge of Anna's case, to explain their plans. He agreed to be appointed Anna's guardian. Agdar paid for Anna's hospital fees. Olaf found a foster family to take her in, though Agdar – and once she was old enough, Elsa – would continue to support Anna financially through anonymous monthly cheques._

 _Most importantly, Olaf agreed to protect the Brundtlands' identity. All of this was arranged while Anna recovered in hospital._

 _The night before Elsa was to be discharged, she visited Anna's ward. Her nurse had been hesitant to reveal the ward number, so she was forced to sneak a peek at her clipboard while she was busy taking Elsa's blood pressure._

 _The ward was dark; Elsa was grateful for it. Agdar had paid to move her into a private room and for her to receive top-notch medical treatment._

 _The pale face was half-hidden by bandages, milky-white against the pillow. Red hair peeked out over her forehead._

 _Elsa stood at the foot of the bed, rigid with fear and guilt. "I'm sorry, Anna," she managed eventually, voice cracking on the girl's name, "I'm so sorry."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This chapter wouldn't be possible without my beta **mach5goh** 's input!

The obligatory disclaimer as follows: I am not wheelchair-bound, neither am I a professional architect/novelist/art student/social worker. The information contained within this fanfic comes from personal experiences and Internet research. I don't own the characters or any part of the media franchise they hail from.

* * *

They met again, on a cold morning so blustery Elsa was half-convinced she could look out the window and see Winnie-the-Pooh go flying past. The only concession she made to the weather was a thin, elegant shawl wrapped around her shoulders over a trim wool coat, and leather gloves. She would be driving, after all, and there was no need to wear more than what was needed.

Anna was just locking up as Elsa walked out; the redhead looked up at the click of the door, and beamed.

"Morning!"

"Good morning," responded Elsa.

"Looks like killer weather out there," said Anna. Her voice was muffled by the thick scarf she had wrapped around her face and neck. The redhead was bulked up, swamped by the layers of clothing she wore. "What I wouldn't do for a mug of hot chocolate. Do you like chocolate? Please say yes."

"Um," said Elsa, mentally fumbling for a response. It was too early, the morning was freezing, and she hadn't had her coffee yet. The universe was conspiring against her, but its agent of destruction was just too nice. "I love chocolate."

Anna clapped her hands – actually clapped her mittened hands – together in delight, producing an unimpressive muffled thud. "You're perfect."

Elsa's ears went beet-red, but were thankfully hidden by her scarf.

They got into the lift. Elsa pressed the floor for the basement parking. "Are you taking the bus?"

"Well…" Anna fidgeted with the book bag in her lap. "Normally I would, but it takes a while for me to get on and I don't want to make the poor driver stop for so long on a day like this. not to mention getting off the bus." She shrugged.

"Then how are you getting to school? You _are_ going to school, aren't you?"

"Walking? Rolling, really." Anna followed it up with a laugh. "I can get some exercise. Stretch my legs." When Elsa simply stared, aghast, the redhead added, "What? It was a joke, Elsa. I'm allowed to laugh at myself."

The blonde forced a quick smile. "I-I see, but Anna..."

"Everyone's too sensitive, really. They get all awkward and quiet when I make a joke about my legs." Anna stopped talking. "Like you are now. It's okay!" she added hastily. "I'm just being horribly insensitive, so ignore me."

Elsa didn't know what to say to that. The awkward silence remained until they reached the ground floor. "Well – see you around. I'm, um, really sorry."

"Anna, wait." The redhead paused, looking nervous.

"You're honestly going to walk in this weather?"

"Oh," said Anna. "Yes, I suppose."

"It's freezing out there. How far is it to school from here?" Elsa knew from Olaf that Anna was attending Arendelle University – her own alma mater – and mentally calculated the traveling time. "Anna, it's a fifteen-minute _drive_! You'll be out in the cold for at least half an hour!"

"So? It's not like I have any other choice." The nervousness was gone, replaced with a mulish stubbornness that bordered on defiance. "I don't have a car or anything."

"You should take the bus." Manners dictated Elsa should offer to drive her, but something held her back. "I'm serious. The weather's particularly bad today, and you could fall sick if you're outside for too long."

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I'll be fine." She was gone before the blonde could answer.

* * *

The young CEO remained preoccupied throughout the walk to her car. Talking to Anna – interacting with her like nothing was wrong – was already more than she could handle, especially since the redhead was terrifyingly energetic and cheerful.

That was, when Elsa wasn't implying that Anna was disabled in every sense of the word. She cringed. Every time she mentioned the wheelchair, it felt like a reprimand, a physical reminder that she had caused that. She had ripped away the full life this outgoing, energetic young woman ought to be leading.

And so she had shut down and run away. _That was all that she was good at_ , thought Elsa bitterly. She needed to calm down.

The blonde started the car but didn't drive away, focusing on her breathing, bringing her mind back to her happy place – an indispensable trick taught by her therapist. It worked. Elsa felt her muscles release the tension she hadn't realised they'd been holding.

She pulled out of the parking lots and onto the main road. It wasn't snowing, but the roads were slick and the trees swayed crazily in the wind. At the very least, Elsa was glad that her therapist had been able to cure her of her phobia of driving. It was one success stacked against her towering pile of failures.

Maybe she would visit the kindly lady again. It would help to have someone to talk to about this latest development in the soap opera of her life.

As she drove slowly, her eye caught a familiar flash of colour against the monochrome backdrop. Anna was huddled in the bus stop.

Elsa pulled up in front of her. "Anna!"

"Elsa? Hi! I thought you'd left ages ago!"

The blonde didn't acknowledge the statement. "I thought you weren't taking the bus?"

Anna gave her a sheepish look. "Yeah, but the roads are a lot more slippery than I anticipated, and the wind's treacherous. I lasted five minutes."

"Hasn't the bus come yet?"A quick glance at her wristwatch told her that she'd been in the parking lot for at least fifteen minutes.

"Maybe it's delayed? I don't blame them, the weather's nasty," said Anna. She was huddled in a corner of the shelter, her clothing and posture hiding as much exposed skin as possible, making her resemble a large bird. "It's fine – good thing they don't care about attendance in college, eh?"

Elsa could see that, despite her lofty words, Anna wasn't dressed to be out for long in such conditions – especially when she wasn't moving – and it was only getting colder. Her decency fought with her guilt and won.

"You're not walking – _rolling_ – anywhere in this weather," she said firmly. "I'm giving you a lift."

"Wait, what?"

"You go to Arendelle University, right? It's on my way to work anyway, so it's no trouble at all." The blonde got out of the car – and hesitated, unsure if she should push Anna's wheelchair out. "My car trunk's big enough for your chair. It's fine."

"Elsa – "

"No buts." If she was digging her own grave, Elsa reasoned, at least her conscience would be the least of her troubles. "It's getting colder. You'll freeze to death before the bus gets here."

Abruptly, the incredulous expression melted from Anna's face and was replaced by the same mulishness from earlier. It didn't suit her at all.

Elsa sensed the other girl's reticence. "Anna? Is something wrong?"

"You don't have to do this because I'm in a _wheelchair_." She spat the last word out.

"What?"

"I don't need anybody's pity, okay?" Despite the bulk of her clothing, Anna seemed to shrink further into herself, eyes dark and downcast.

Elsa's shyness faded away. She folded her arms across her chest. "Anna. The weather is perfectly horrid today. Even if you weren't in that chair, I'd still be offering you a ride because I have transport and you don't, and no decent human being would let someone freeze out here."

That seemed to snap the redhead out of her mood; she looked sheepish. "… Okay. Sorry."

"Forget it." Elsa eyed her. "So… how are we doing this?"

"Give me a moment…" The redhead wheeled herself over to the passenger door, mindful of the ice, and opened it, hauling herself out of her chair and into the car seat in one fluid movement like a gymnast. "Sorry, do you mind stowing my chair in the trunk? It's collapsible, it won't take up much room."

"Collapsible?"

"Yeah, you can just squish it together, folds flat." Anna directed Elsa from her seat, making a sound of approval when the chair collapsed nicely. "Aluminium frame, so it's light."

"It's quite nice. I don't think I'll need to open the trunk, though, it's small enough to fit in the back." Elsa tucked the chair into the backseat of her car, and shut the passenger door for Anna. By the time she slid into the driver's seat, Anna had already put on her seatbelt and was examining the interior of the car with a rapt expression.

"I love this," she exclaimed. "I'm saving up for a car myself, but if I want to be able to drive to school before I graduate, it's going to have to be some second-hand junker. Those are hard to come by even – I've got to get a custom one."

"Thank you. It was a gift from my father after I graduated from college," said Elsa. "So where do I drive you?"

"School of Arts building, Arendelle University – the brownstone building just off Main Street – "

"On the corner of Atlantica? I know the place." At Anna's incredulous look, Elsa explained: "I was from Arendelle U myself."

"Wow, really? What a coincidence. How long have you been out of school, if you don't mind me asking?"

"A year ago." She pretended to be focused on the road, fervently hoping Anna wasn't going to ask further questions.

"So, that makes you 24? – sorry, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you? I mean, you could definitely pass for a teenager without the power suit."

Elsa's lips twitched. "I just turned 24."

"Close enough! I'll be 21 this year." Anna glanced out the window. "It looks terrible out there."

"The weather forecast said there might even be hail."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not out there."

Elsa nodded absently. For a few long moments, there was nothing but the sound of tyres on snow, and the hum of the heater.

Anna broke the silence before it grew too uncomfortable. "… Look, Elsa – about what I said back there…"

"It's fine. Really." The blonde smiled at her. "I understand where you were coming from."

"Yeah, well…" Anna gave an awkward laugh. "It's just – people tend to treat me differently just because I'm in a wheelchair, and that gets annoying. I'm mostly fine with it, honest – but sometimes, it just gets to me. I wish everyone would see that I'm just like everyone else – maybe a lot shorter, but..."

The joke was weak, but Elsa smiled anyway, and that got a full-fledged grin from Anna. "You don't have to explain yourself. It's fine."

"Okay. Sorry. Uh, sorry for apologizing. Never mind."

Elsa arrived at the campus, focusing on making the turn so she wouldn't laugh. "Can I drop you here?" she asked, pulling into the driveway.

"Yeah! Perfect, here is fine – wait a minute." Anna frowned. "This isn't the administrative office. How'd you know I was headed for the fine art building? Did I tell you what I'm majoring in?"

Elsa's heart beat frantically in her chest. "You mentioned it the other day," she lied hastily, "don't you remember?"

"Ah, that must've been it. Memory like a sieve." She pulled a face, miming a leak from her ear.

"Y-yeah." Elsa pulled Anna's chair out of the back seat, wheeling it over to the passenger seat; the redhead easily lifted her legs out of the car, into the chair, and shifted into the seat. "There," she said, grinning, "done. Thanks again for the ride, Elsa. I'll see you around?"

"You're welcome. See you."

With a jaunty wave, Anna was gone with surprising speed up the ramp and into the building. Elsa took a while to get going, palms cold and clammy from the slip-up. She was lucky Anna had accepted that half-assed explanation so easily; all that trouble to remain unknown, and she had nearly given herself away.

Screw it. There was no way she could continue being neighbours with Anna, let alone for an entire month. Olaf was wrong; she didn't need a month to see how bad the idea of their being neighbours was.

* * *

"Kristoff!"

The burly young man looked up from his tattered paperback novel. "Oh, hey, Anna. Thought you weren't going to make it. You texted me to say the bus was late."

"I thought so too, but I was rescued by my neighbour. She happened to be passing by, and it was on her way to work, so she gave me a lift." She slid into the space beside him. "You remember her, right? I told you about her the other day?"

"More like gushed about her nonstop," replied Kristoff, affecting a falsetto. "She's soooo pretty! She's sooooooo nice! She – Ow! That really hurt!" He rubbed his side.

"You deserved that. That isn't what I said, at all." Anna's ears were bright red.

"Anyway, why did you decide to take the bus? You could have called me, I would have picked you up."

"It's the principle of the thing! I moved out, I'm supposed to be independent and responsible." As Kristoff rolled his eyes, she added, "Plus you know how Ma fusses. To her, I'm still eleven and don't eat enough greens."

"But you still don't," he pointed out, earning a glare from Anna. "Anyway, we're all still Ma's babies. She was pretty peeved, though, that you wanted to live on your own and your guardian let you." He grinned. "Ma was secretly hoping he'd make you live at home until you were forty."

Anna shuddered. "Not that it's such a horrible thing, but I'd never be able to bring anyone home."

"One of the sacrifices to be made for warm meals and laundry service."

"True, that."

"Seriously, though..." He bopped her on the head. Anna squawked indignantly. "No more gung-ho 'I-don't-need-anybody-helping-me' attempts, you hear? Or Ma _will_ hear about it."

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Anyway, your neighbor."

Anna scowled. "What about her? I thought we'd already discussed it."

"Oh, not as much as you'd like to, I'm sure," said Kristoff. "She was the one that helped you move your things inside, right? Sorry I couldn't come earlier, by the way."

She waved him off. "It's fine. And yeah, she did – incidentally, remind me to slug Eugene for suggesting those Stabbington morons. They dumped all my things in the corridor and took off. She didn't have a choice, really; it was help me or be stranded outside." Anna smiled. "It was nice of her to volunteer anyway."

"Mmhmm."

"And she taught me how to work the garbage chute!"

Kristoff wrinkled his nose. "Oh, that evil chrome thing? It took me a while to wrestle open when I was dumping the packing peanuts."

"That's because you think with those impressive biceps of yours, big brother," said Anna, poking his arm, "and all your structural engineering knowledge leaked out of your ears the minute class ended. Elsa taught me how to get that thing open."

"Elsa?"

"Didn't I tell you? Thinks with his biceps, not his brain," said Anna.

"No, idiot; your neighbour's name is Elsa?"

Anna stared incredulously at him. "Well, duh. Did I not mention it earlier?"

"No, you didn't. Hmm…" Her brother trailed off.

"Hmm what?"

"Oh, nothing."

She jostled his elbow. "Doofus."

* * *

" _Do we have to?"_

 _Agdar looked at his daughter, his expression kindly. "I'm afraid it is, yes. We aren't Anna's guardians, but it's our responsibility to meet the foster family that will be taking her in. Mr. Kristiansen will be there as well."_

 _Elsa took a deep breath. "Alright then."_

 _His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment, squeezing, then he was getting into the car. They drove in silence for the entire trip._

 _Olaf Kristiansen was waiting at the social services centre, a jovial-looking man who seemed incapable of standing still. "Mr. Brundtland, Miss Brundtland!" he said eagerly, bounding over to shake both their hands – and then, much to the pair's surprise, give them a hug each. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both."_

" _The pleasure's all ours," said Agdar, only looking slightly ruffled. "Thank you again for agreeing to help us in this…_ sensitive, _matter, and for your understanding."_

" _It was no trouble. The Bjorgmans are already here, shall we?" He led them down the dimly-lit corridor. "As per your specifications, we have set up Miss Iversen's bank account for the transfer. I'll go over the details with you in my office later."_

 _Agdar nodded. "Excellent."_

" _I don't usually blow my own horn, but I believe I've outdone myself with the Bjorgmans. Cliff and Bulda have been fostering children for a decade now; I've known them for nearly eight years. You won't find a more suitable environment for a child. Of course," he added, "they haven't yet had a child with_ – special needs _– but I have full confidence it'll work out."_

" _That sounds wonderful," said Elsa's father. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."_

 _Olaf knocked on the door before opening it. A pleasant-looking middle-aged couple stood up when they entered. "Mr. and Miss Brundtland, I'd like you to meet Cliff and Bulda Bjorgman."_

" _It's a pleasure, Mr and Mrs Bjorgman," said Agdar pleasantly. Elsa echoed his words._

" _Please, call me Cliff," said the man warmly._

" _Then you must call me Agdar." Agdar's thin hand was swallowed up in Cliff's two-handed grip._

" _What's your name, dear?" asked Bulda._

" _Elsa."_

 _She held out her hand expectantly, but instead the woman enveloped her in a hug._ " _So nice to meet you."_

 _From behind her, a sullen teenage boy also waited to be introduced. "This is our boy, Kristoff," said Bulda, an arm around his shoulders._

" _Ma," he protested, turning a little pink around the ears._

" _Hello, Kristoff."_

" _Hey," he mumbled. He looked around her age, caught in an awkward stage of adolescence. Kristoff had a beanie thrust on straw-coloured hair that was too long. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans that looked like they had been handed down over generations of children, ill-fitting but well cared-for._

 _Elsa felt out-of-place, dressed in her usual prim and immaculate dress._

 _Olaf cleared his throat. "Agdar, Cliff, there are a few things I'd like to go through before we finalise the fostering process..."_

 _While the adults talked, Elsa hung awkwardly around the sofa, picking at a bit of skin on her fingers._

" _You're the one who caused the accident, weren't you?"_

 _Elsa's head shot up. "W-what?"_

 _Kristoff had his arms folded across his chest as he slumped in the chair opposite hers. "Ma told me about the new girl we're taking in. She's in a wheelchair because of you."_

 _Her gaze dropped, vision blurring with tears. "I'm sorry."_

" _You shouldn't be apologising to me." His tone was gentler now. "You're here because you're trying to make it up to her, aren't you?"_

" _Yes," whispered Elsa. "It was my fault – I was stupid, and I – "_

" – _it's already past," said Kristoff. "Will you be keeping in touch with Anna?"_

" _I can't. She probably hates me. It's better if she doesn't know who I am."_

" _You're sure you wanna do that? I mean, I know my parents said something about you and your dad insisting on being completely anonymous, but…"_

" _It's for the best," said Elsa firmly._

 _He shrugged. "Whatever. Your choice. Just hope you won't regret it later. I'm just saying," he added hastily, catching the look on Elsa's face.  
_

* * *

Slow afternoons were Elsa's second-favourite times for working, the wee hours after midnight coming top. It allowed her to get a jump start on refining whatever snippets she had collected from the morning.

Her editor was planning to sell this novel as a murder mystery with a twist; in his words, "a well-researched, modern Dan Brown". Which was all very well and good, except Elsa was the one writing it, and there was a lot of a research to be done before she could even start. In a brilliant stroke of genius, she'd come up with a plot and had gotten the thumbs-up from Marshall. All that was left now was the actual writing, with more research to fill in the factual gaps; she was up to court procedure now, with a few more articles to peruse.

One of the perks of being the boss was the ability to slack off – well, to work on other things. Elsa glanced guiltily at the pile of office work on her desk, wondering for the thousandth time that day why she had chosen to put herself through the misery of two full-time jobs. She had no social life to speak of. She hadn't even kept in touch with her friends from high school or university. Even her hobbies revolved around her work.

At least Oaken's and Weselton's projects were going well. Elsa had dropped by to chat with her senior partners that morning and was satisfied by their progress.

She realized she'd been reading the same page for the past ten minutes, and decided that was a good sign she needed a break.

"Nancy," she called to her secretary, "I'm going downstairs for a cup of coffee. Hold my calls, and kindly not mention my actual whereabouts." The dark-haired woman smiled knowingly. That was the closest to a joke that Elsa was capable of – something Nancy knew well after years of working at North Mountain.

"Sure thing."

Elsa made the last minute decision to slip a paperback into her bag. The weather outside wasn't looking too comfortable, and the idea of nursing a hot mug while enjoying a good book sounded more appealing by the minute.

* * *

"Thanks again for taking this class with me, big bro; I really appreciate it," said Anna.

"No problem. Someone's got to take calculus so you can copy my notes and pass the class."

"… I take that back, along with every nice thing I've ever said about you."

"Rude."

Kristoff grinned.

"Anyway, we have a shift later, don't we?" asked Anna. They walked – or rather, Anna kept her wheelchair going at a leisurely pace to match Kristoff's – down the path that ran through the campus. "How long again?"

"Four hours. And I'm not your PA."

Anna shrugged. "If the shoe fits…"

"You know, I could just tip you out and leave you there."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would."

"It'll be all over the papers," said Anna. " _'Local Boy Abuses Disabled Younger Sister_ '."

"Trust you to pull that card just to win an argument," grumbled Kristoff. "Brat."

"You're the only one who doesn't get all uncomfortable, so I'll take any advantage I can get."

He snorted but said nothing.

* * *

There wasn't much of a queue at the coffee shop, despite the hostile weather, and Elsa was grateful for small mercies. She fetched her steaming mug of coffee and chocolate chip muffin from the barista and looked around for a seat, settling for a cosy table in the corner.

She was well into her book when she became aware of a person approaching her.

"Hello. Sorry to interrupt you, but you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Elsa was about to tell him that it was the oldest pick-up line in the book, when she got a good look at his face and paused. He _did_ look vaguely familiar, with those distinctive auburn sideburns, long nose, and pronounced jaw. The young woman searched her memory.

He snapped his fingers. "You live on my floor! At Arendelle Heights? Apartment 138?"

It jolted her memory. "That's it."

Smiling, he offered her his hand. "Hans Sorenson. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you sooner."

"No, I should be the one apologizing." She gestured at her table. "What a coincidence to see you here. Would you like to sit down?"

"Yes, let me just buy a coffee first." He was back presently, a blueberry muffin in addition to the coffee. "I have an incurable sweet tooth," explained Hans with a rueful grin.

"So do I." She stirred her coffee. "I work nearby, and snuck out for an afternoon pick-me-up."

"Same! I'm a junior attorney with Thorssen, Thorssen, and Sutherland LLC." Automatically he reached into his pocket and passed her a business card. Elsa reciprocated just as automatically.

Hans whistled. "CEO of North Mountain? That's impressive, unless you look a lot younger than you really are?"

"A lady never reveals her age," retorted Elsa, slipping easily into the polite social banter. "My father was the CEO before he passed away. Our senior partners were fine with me taking over from him, since none of them want to do the office work."

"My condolences." Hans tucked her card into his suit jacket pocket. "So we're not only neighbours, but caffeine junkies."

Elsa allowed him a rueful smile, feeling a little out of her depth; somehow, the fact that Hans was now an acquaintance in her personal and working life bothered her. She had never liked the idea of mixing them.

"Speaking of caffeine, you're running dry as well," he pointed out. "I'm going to get a refill. Would you like one as well?"

"Oh no," began Elsa, "thank you but…"

"Please, it's the least I can do. Doesn't make sense for both of us to stand in the queue and then have to search for another table again."

She hated that he was making sense; the shop was more crowded than it had been, the weather driving more customers inside. Elsa felt bad imposing on someone she had only just met – though it was more like gotten to know a little better. It made her feel like she was indebted to him.

"... In that case, thank you. Could I have a hot latte, grande, please?"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

After Hans had left, Elsa found it quite impossible to focus on her book, her thoughts refusing to leave. She marked her place carefully and tucked it back into her bag, eavesdropping shamelessly on neighbouring tables out of habit, hoping to pick up good lines to incorporate into her writing.

"Dollar for your thoughts."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know it should be a penny, but inflation." He chuckled at her expression, setting a steaming mug in front of her. "Sorry. I know it's a terrible joke."

"It makes sense, though."

Hans perked up. "Doesn't it? My friends hate my sense of humour, but there you go. Personally, I think they're just jealous."

She laughed. It was so easy to be sitting in the café with her coffee and her book, making small talk with another person with absolutely no dark history.

* * *

Kristoff pretended to be immersed in his paperback novel, deliberately ignoring the girl beside him, grinning inwardly as he turned a page with great deliberation.

Anna slapped a hand down on the pages. He scowled, and pushed her away. "Leave off, Anna."

"Don't think I don't know you're doing it on purpose."

"Doing _what_ on purpose?"

She seemed to smoulder. "Ignoring me when I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes. I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"You mean, you want to tell me aaaaaalll about that gorgeous neighbour – ooof!" A pile of books was dumped into his lap.

"Never mind. Go shelve these books, you moron."

"Anna! They're from sections on opposite ends of the building! I'll be walking back and forth across the whole place to put these away!"

"So? You're the shelving minion." She was grinning now. "Besides, look at these call numbers; the shelves are at the top of the stacks. I can't possibly climb ladders now, can I?"

"… You're evil. Pure evil."

"Consider this payback for that crack about calculus earlier."

Kristoff blinked. "You're _still_ pissed about that?"

"Not anymore." She made a big show of leaning back in her wheelchair, tucking her hands behind her head, grinning as Kristoff stomped off.

* * *

As though sensing Elsa had enjoyed her leisurely afternoon a bit too much, the scene back in North Mountain's offices was chaotic; Oaken's biomedical firm came back with input from their CEO that required a substantial amount of changes to the plans, and their long-standing major client (formerly her father's, now handled by Elsa and the other senior partner) calling to propose a new project.

A theme park modeled after the lost city of Atlantis. The cost would run into billions. Elsa snorted. If Mr. Whitmore hadn't been such a loyal and valuable client over the years, she would have dismissed the old man as a crackpot.

Crackpot or no, he was the reason why Elsa left the office late.

She hadn't eaten dinner yet. The young woman's entire being was focused on getting herself home for some much-needed rest, and then she would figure everything else out later –

Anna turned her head when the lift doors opened, wearing a sheepish smile. "Oh, hi, Elsa."

"Hello, Anna." The blonde graced her with a quick smile, and then started fishing in her bag for her keys. By the time she had extracted them from the corner pocket, unlocked the door, and walked in, Elsa was vaguely aware that Anna hadn't moved.

She took her time kicking off her shoes so she could ponder her next move. Common sense (plus a healthy amount of curiosity) dictated she ask Anna if there was something wrong. Her deep-rooted guilt was screaming at her to stay away from the girl as much as was humanly possible.

Elsa needed more time. She went to change out of her suit into something more comfortable. As she slowly pulled her sweater over her head, Elsa mentally ran over her exercises.

 _Breathe in, hold… out. Conceal it, don't feel it._

"Anna? Is something wrong?" she asked, poking her head out.

Her expression grew more sheepish; something Elsa hadn't thought was possible. "I may or may not have accidentally… locked myself out?"

"Ah." Elsa chewed on her lower lip. "Have you called the building manager?"

"Yes," said Anna. "But he's out, and won't be back until 10pm." She glanced at the door, then the window, and then back at Elsa. "So unless I master telekinesis in the next – " she checked her watch " – 3 hours, and levitate those keys through the window, I'll have to wait for him."

"Oh." The horrible awkward silence Elsa had come to dread filled the atmosphere. She felt mildly resentful of the universe for putting her in these situations where she had to choose between her conscience and her sanity.

 _She's not in danger of freezing to death. She'll be perfectly fine out here in the corridor._

Elsa opened her mouth to make her excuses and take her leave, but: "Would you like to come in while waiting?" came out of Elsa's mouth before she could stop herself.

 _Fuck._

She forgot her mortification temporarily – even though she was convinced she was going to regret it later – when the beam that lit up Anna's face made her smile.

"Yes, please, if it's not too much trouble… I mean, you've been so nice to me, and…" Anna trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh no, it's no trouble at all!" Elsa's hand hesitated on the way to the handle of the wheelchair. "I'm not doing anything tonight, so, I, um, would you like me to help you…?"

Anna turned her head, her smile reassuring. "I'll be fine, but it's really nice of you to offer." She wheeled herself into Elsa's apartment. The blonde followed, secretly glad she didn't help; visions of disaster danced in her head.

She'd done enough to the poor girl.

"Nice place," said the redhead appreciatively, parking herself beside the coffee table with a precision that surprised Elsa. "I like the, uh, monochrome look. It's very stylish."

She hadn't thought of herself being very avant-garde in her designing choices. There was black and white, because it contrasted nicely; and just black and white because Elsa didn't want to accidentally buy something that would clash. Furniture was sparse because it meant less cleaning. "I like black and white," said Elsa, already feeling the explanation was too lame.

Anna caught the look on her face. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it as a bad thing! I'm sorry! It's good, I like how clean it looks!"

"Clean?" She honestly hadn't thought that word could apply to her apartment. The stack of magazines on the coffee table and the overflowing garbage bin begged to differ.

"Like… stark. Lots of clean lines." Anna blushed. "Sorry – graphic design major. As you know."

"Don't apologise. I thought that was really nice." Changing the subject, Elsa added: "Would you like coffee or tea?"

Anna looked grateful. "Uhm – do you have hot chocolate?"

Elsa almost smiled. "One of the few staples in my pantry that isn't black or white."

She'd meant it as a joke – a pun playing on what Anna had said, and answering her question to boot – but Anna's blush deepened. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to offend you or anything like that. I'm not very good with words – that is to say, I just blurt out every stupid thought I have. Kristoff says it's some kind of Tourette's, except I just say embarrassing things."

"Kristoff's your brother, right?" She already knew Kristoff Bjorgman was her foster brother – she'd met the young man before, and Anna had told her – but after that morning's slip, Elsa wasn't taking any chances.

"Kristoff's my foster brother and also a senior at the same college. He's majoring in mechanical engineering. He's also the world's biggest softy – after my guardian – since he randomly decided he needed a part-time job in the school library after I started working there."

Elsa smiled. "He sounds really nice." Even after their brief meeting his protectiveness and kind heart were apparent to her, back then.

"Yep. We're also the best team the school library ever had," boasted Anna as Elsa handed her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "He's the book shelving minion. I direct the book shelving minion."

"Minion?"

"Well, I also run the borrowing counter, on account of being unable to climb the ladders. That sorta puts me in charge of the rest of the student librarians."

"Oh."

Anna laughed. "I'm only partially kidding about the minion thing though. You missed him the other day – he came over to help me unpack – but he's due to visit my new place one of these days. If you're around, I'll introduce you guys?"

"I'd like that," said Elsa carefully. In truth, she was hoping to be conveniently out if Kristoff came by. She couldn't risk the chance that he might recognize her.

They sipped their drinks in comfortable silence. "You're the first person not to ask," said Anna suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, most people start asking me about my family when I talk about Kristoff being my foster brother."

A cold suffocating knot formed in the pit of Elsa's stomach. "… I don't want to pry," she said honestly; it was true, she didn't want to touch on that buried incident.

Anna set her mug down, expression suddenly earnest. "You're not prying!" she assured Elsa. "It happened years ago, so I'm okay. Besides, I'm pretty much impossible to offend, remember?"

Elsa gave her an uncertain smile, not sure what to say. The redhead interpreted it as encouragement to go on.

"I was thirteen when I was in a bad car accident. My parents were killed on impact. I was trapped in the car, and by the time they got me out, my legs were in pretty bad shape."

It was a simple summary, glossing over most of the details, but Elsa could see the accident unfolding before her eyes. Her grip on her mug tightened.

"I didn't have any family left, but I was lucky that some foundation heard about my case. My social worker, Mr. Kristiansen, who's also my legal guardian, arranged for me to live with Kristoff's family, but the foundation takes care of my school fees and stuff. They send me a cheque every month. The foundation's president is this really elusive guy, though. I've been nagging Olaf – Mr. Kristiansen – to arrange for me to meet him so I can thank him in person for all they've done, but no luck." Anna pulled a face.

"I guess he has his reasons for remaining anonymous," supplied Elsa nervously. Olaf had brought up Anna's requests a few times, both to her and her father; she'd declined every single one.

"You think he's got some deep dark secret?" To her horror, the redhead seemed unwilling to let go of the subject. "Maybe he's raising me to be his ideal bride or something?"

Elsa stared at her, aghast. "Where'd you get an idea like _that_?"

"Ever read _Daddy-Long-Legs_?" When the blonde shook her head, Anna explained: "Well, it's this story about an orphan girl whose college education is sponsored by a mysterious benefactor. Part of his conditions is she must write monthly letters. The girl knows he's really tall and long-legged, so she calls him Daddy-Long-Legs."

"That's nice," managed Elsa.

"That's not all. The twist is that Daddy-Long-Legs turns out to be this older guy – her roommate's uncle – that she fell in love with in college, and she marries him in the end."

The blonde was eternally grateful she hadn't been taking a sip of her hot chocolate at that particular point, or she would surely have choked on it. "… Wow."

"If he's hot, though, I wouldn't mind." To Elsa's incredulous expression, Anna smirked, and continued: "I can't believe you've never read it. I should lend my copy to you one day." Her cheeky grin turned somewhat wistful. "Jokes aside, I'm really fortunate, though."

"Why do you say that?"

Anna looked down at her legs. "I didn't die in the accident. I could have. The doctors said if the other car had been a fraction of a second faster, it would have hit me and I'd be a goner. The Bjorgmans – my foster family – are like my real family now." She looked back at Elsa. "Things could have been so much worse."

"Worse," repeated Elsa. She wasn't sure what she should have been feeling, hearing the person whose life she'd destroyed speak so optimistically about the accident. She had been expecting anger, resentment, maybe a desire to meet the other driver to exact revenge. The guilt she was feeling grew exponentially. Anna was truly a good person. She didn't deserve everything she had gotten – though, with some help from Elsa, she could have had more.

"Elsa?" Anna had leaned forward to touch her hand. "You've gone white. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," replied Elsa. "I'm sorry to hear that – about your parents, and your legs."

"Thanks." Anna drained her mug, pushing it across the table, wearing a sheepish smile. "… You wouldn't suppose I could have more, could you?"

Elsa returned the smile, albeit a little shakily. "Of course." She started up the kettle again, fetching another sachet of chocolate mix from the pantry. She fetched the hot water for Anna, the kettle hovering in midair as she debated whether it was rude to offer to pour; Anna patiently held out her empty mug. The blonde filled it.

Elsa shot little, furtive glances at Anna frequently; the silence wasn't unwelcome, but she felt pressured to make small talk. Anna, however, looked completely content to be drinking in silence, her eyes drifting from her surroundings to the mug and back. Elsa felt her shoulders tighten with the tension.

"Are you busy?"

Elsa started, afraid she'd been spacing out and missed something. "I'm sorry?"

"Well – before I came and messed up your schedule," clarified Anna with an apologetic laugh.

"Oh, no, you didn't mess anything up."

"You don't have to sit here and keep me company, really; just go on with whatever you want to do. I don't need minding."

Elsa wavered. It went against the good manners that had been instilled from birth, but Anna was so casual about things, and the first few chapters of her novel demanded her attention…

"… You're sure?"

"Absolutely." The smile Anna gave her was so warm, so… accepting. It reminded her of the way Gerda smiled when Elsa was having trouble talking, when she was so touchy and keyed-up that the slightest thing made tears well up in her eyes. The last of Elsa's defences fell away.

"O-okay, if you're sure." Elsa got up from her chair slowly, the legs scraping against the tiles, her eyes trained on Anna in case she changed her mind. "I'll be in my room, is that alright? You can just call me if you need anything else."

Anna remained sitting serenely, the smile never leaving her face. "Got it. Thanks again, Elsa." She pulled out her phone and was promptly engrossed.

It felt wrong to turn her back on her guest, so Elsa backed up until the cold metal of the doorknob pressed into her back; face flushed with embarrassment, the blonde turned so Anna couldn't see her blush, and quickly opened the door. She left it open, though.

She was eternally grateful that she had left her laptop in her bedroom – it was bad enough that she was leaving a house guest – no matter how impromptu – to their own devices. It would have been worse if she were to write in Anna's presence, like exposing a private side of herself. The thought alone made Elsa feel immensely vulnerable.

Elsa sat on her bed with her legs straight-out in front of her, balancing the open laptop on her thighs. The cursor blinked on the white page; consulting her notes, she thought briefly and started to write.

* * *

 **Richard's phone rang, startling him from a light doze.** _ **Maryanne always did pick the worst times to call,**_ **he thought grumpily, thumb stabbing the phone screen.**

" **Hello?"**

" **I was wondering if you happened to be free this evening," said the smooth feminine voice on the line, with a touch of asperity. Richard pictured her sprawled on the couch at home, probably with one cat or two with her. "I'm starting to forget what you look like, and Mr. Harrison next door gets more appealing daily."**

 **He laughed despite himself. "If that's supposed to make me jealous, you can do a lot better than Mr. Harrison. He has four bulldogs and looks like he could be the fifth."**

" **Keep this up and you'll be sleeping on the couch."**

" **To answer your question, though; yes, I should be able to get off work early today. I haven't any cases at the moment." Richard leaned back in his office chair. "In fact, I was dozing off when you called."**

" **Is that so?" Inspector Callaghan chose that moment to approach Richard's desk with a bulging manila folder and a crooked grin. "I guess you need this, then."**

 **The detective sighed. "I'll call you back," he said to Maryanne, terminating the call over her long-suffering sigh. He would make it up to her later; he always did. It was the only reason why she put up with him. Richard had been sprawled backwards in the chair. He sat upright now, springing back up with a speed that had the inspector arching an eyebrow.**

" **If only you'd move with the same speed when solving cases," commented the man dryly. Richard's response was a tight smile, and a shrug. "What's this case about?"**

" **In a nutshell, a man's gone missing." Callaghan opened the folder as he spoke, and continued to flip to relevant parts as he explained. "Justice John Morrison didn't return home last night, and wasn't in court this morning. There are people who've called in to say they saw a car matching the one registered to the judge heading out of the city towards Townsville."**

" **Could easily be stolen."**

" **Now that's your job, isn't it?"**

 **Richard scowled. He pushed the papers back into the manila folder. "A bit thick, isn't it, given that it sounds like we haven't done much work on this, and it happened fairly recently."**

" **We figured you would need bio on the judge, and the list of potential witnesses. You're doing the footwork; you and your partner – "**

* * *

Elsa jumped when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Anna was beetroot-red, snatching her hand back. "I didn't mean to interrupt you, but I've been calling you for five minutes, and – "

Elsa felt her face go hot. "I am so sorry." She snapped the laptop shut, leaping to her feet, mumbling apologies.

Anna was equally as frantic. "No, it's alright! I'm sorry I startled you."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"I just – "

"I didn't mean – "

"Sorry," said Elsa, "what were you saying?"

"Um, the manager called. He'll be here in ten minutes or so – " Anna checked her wristwatch " – yeah, around there."

"Oh." Belatedly, Elsa realized she was still sitting on the bed. She shoved the laptop off her legs – ignoring the pain in her back muscles from sitting in an awkward position for a prolonged period of time – and walked to the front door. "I'll open it for you, then – I'm really sorry about that."

"Don't be," said Anna, "it's fine, honestly. In any case, you don't need to rush; he won't be here for a bit." There was a touch of exasperation in her tone – Elsa picked up on it immediately and cringed, fighting the urge to apologise again.

She was an idiot. She had gone and let her guard down, fucking everything up; karma was swift, and she found herself being embarrassed in front of the person she wasn't even supposed to be talking to, let alone inviting into her home.

There was a noise outside. "Mr. Thompson? Is that you?" called Anna.

"Yes, it's me," huffed a voice in a nasal British accent. "Where are you?"

"Just a moment, I'm next door." Before Elsa could open the door, Anna's hand was resting on hers; the blonde bit her lip hard to suppress the shiver of being touched unexpectedly. The fingers stilled, and were withdrawn – slowly, so as not to alarm her.

"Don't say anything," said Anna, her expression determined, "just listen. Elsa – I know we haven't known each other very long, but please don't feel bad about doing anything in front of me, okay? I won't judge you or anything, if that's what you're afraid of." She paused. "I'm bad at words – you know that already – but yeah. I'm totally okay with anything."

Elsa swallowed hard.

"You don't have to respond or anything right now. You can – think about it? If it's not okay, then just – yeah, forget I said anything." Anna followed this up with a quick smile, and then she was gone.

Elsa closed her door behind her in a daze, the sound of voices outside fading into a distant buzz.

She wasn't quite sure what to think. On one hand, it was a massive relief to have someone understand what went on in her head in social situations – as weird as it was compared to 'normal' people. On the other…

It was mortifying to realize that she was broadcasting her thought processes that the people around her were picking up on them. And that meant the people in her life so far – the employees at North Mountain, her friends from school, even her father – did they think she was different?

Had they been treating her with kid gloves the entire time?

Gerda. Gerda knew her – knew her bizarre thoughts, understood the convoluted logic she operated within, had talked to her for years. Gerda hadn't said anything about how different she was from 'normal' people. The therapist had simply smiled and listened.

Much like Anna had.

It had taken years for Gerda to understand how Elsa functioned, and Anna had figured it out in days.

The thought was mind-boggling. Elsa wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

* * *

She was – quite literally – up to her eyebrows in blueprints; and so, Elsa didn't realise her phone was ringing. It stopped while she was frantically searching her desk, and started up again.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Elsa, is this a bad time? I've been calling for the past fifteen minutes. I can always call back later if you're busy…"

"No, no, now is fine. I'm sorry, Olaf, I was distracted." A tiny undercurrent of panic entered her voice as it occurred to her that he was calling her. "What is it? Has anything happened?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckled. "I was just talking to Anna. She insists on calling you Daddy-Long-Legs now – do you have any idea where that nickname came from?"

Elsa was completely speechless, amidst Olaf's laughter. Finally, she managed to gather enough composure to say: "You've been calling me for the past fifteen minutes, just to tell me that?"

"Yes. Actually, no? I had a point earlier, but I seem to have forgotten what it was."

"Olaf…"

"I remember now. Are you free anytime this week for lunch?"

"Yes, but is there any particular reason?"

A chuckle. "Straight to the point, as always. There is."

Elsa's stomach plummeted. "Understood. Is Thursday alright with you?"

"Great. And Elsa…"

"Yes?"

"It's nothing bad, dear, so there's no need to sound so worried."

She forced a laugh.

* * *

 **End Notes:** Originally scheduled to be posted next week, but pushed ahead as a birthday present for myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks to _**mach5goh**_ for being my beta and consultant. Any errors are my own.

The artwork that Elsa picks is inspired by the works of the very talented _**yuumei**_. FF doesn't allow links, but a quick Google search should point you in the right direction.

* * *

The lunch meeting was the only thing on Elsa's mind all morning.

She hadn't been able to work – both on her office tasks, and her reading. Adding to her stress levels, Elsa had been about to leave the office when an old client based overseas had called. She'd ended up stuck in the office while he talked about the veritable mountain of new projects his company was planning, parsing the fancy words to see that he was trying to get her firm to provide preliminary ideas, free of charge.

Again, considerable self-control had been exercised to keep herself sounding civil.

* * *

Olaf was already waiting when she reached the little restaurant where they were scheduled to meet. "I'm so sorry I'm late," said Elsa quickly, slipping into the seat opposite him. "I've had a busy morning."

"It's fine. I had a really good coffee while waiting." He nodded to the cup on the table.

"… Oh."

Elsa continued to stare at nothing in particular, her hands folded in her lap, unsure of her next step. Common sense dictated she ask for menus so they could order – she _was_ hungry, and she supposed he was too – but the mortification of having kept him waiting grated on her.

"Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"Breathe." Olaf wasn't looking at her either as he took a sip of coffee, offering a warm smile to no one in particular. "Calm down."

Breathing, she could do. Calming down… Elsa focused on taking deep breaths. She felt like an ice cube before a fireplace, tension evaporating from her shoulders with each passing moment.

"I know you've had a hard morning," said the older man once she'd composed herself, "so I won't take up too much of your time – and it's not a hassle for me," he added quickly. "I do have a lot of things to do today myself."

"I see."

He met her eyes and smiled reassuringly, breaking contact a long moment later to summon a waiter.

"So," started Elsa tersely once the waiter had departed with their orders.

"Hmm?"

"… What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Eh? Oh! Yes." Olaf sat up in his chair. "The monthly cheques."

"How much?"

"Excuse me?"

Elsa swallowed. "How much do you think I should increase it by?"

He looked flabbergasted for a moment, and then burst into laughter. It didn't help Elsa's nerves.

"Oh, no, no, my dear," said Olaf once he'd calmed down sufficiently, "no. I didn't mean that. I was about to suggest you reduce the amount."

"… Wait, what?" The CEO's mouth worked soundlessly as she struggled to put her thoughts into coherent form. "That doesn't make any sense. If An – Miss Iversen – is living independently, it only stands to reason that her daily expenses increase, and furthermore she is still a student and is not earning a living salary. I fail to see how reducing the amount helps."

He chuckled. "You always go into your professional mode when we discuss Anna."

"Mr. Kristiansen – "

"I know, I know. Yes." Olaf interlaced his fingers on the table, shifting forward in his seat. "It's part of the entire 'living independently' process. Anna mentioned – and I agree – that she should start becoming responsible for herself; not only in terms of living arrangements, but also financially."

"Speaking of living arrangements…"

" – And we will, in just a minute." He smiled briefly at her. "I'm not sure if Anna mentioned she's started working part-time."

"She has." Elsa remembered her saying something about working in the school library with her brother. "But that is only pocket change at best."

"The college experience has always been a big thing for kids – moving out, being responsible for themselves. Anna's disability notwithstanding, she's just like everyone else. But," said Olaf firmly, "I don't think she should be mollycoddled. She's not the type to take that, either."

"So, what you're saying…?"

Olaf shrugged. "It's not much different from your typical young adult taking a part-time job to help pay for college. Anna told me that she's thinking of taking up another job to supplement her income."

Elsa folded her arms across her chest. "If it's about the money, I can assure you that's not an issue…"

"It isn't. Honestly, Elsa."

They were spared carrying on the conversation when the waiter arrived with their food. Elsa picked glumly at her spaghetti.

"I sense there's something else on your mind?" said Olaf, and popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

"About the living arrangements." Elsa set down her fork. "I don't think… it's not working out."

"Oh? What happened?"

"We're neighbours. We – there's no conceivable way I won't run into her in the lift, or – we won't leave or come back at the same time… I even drove her to school the other day, because I couldn't leave her to freeze to death outside. It's hopeless."

"What's hopeless?" asked Olaf quietly.

"The entire notion that I could ever be okay with what I did to her," said Elsa, biting off every consonant, ignoring the way her voice wobbled on the last syllable. There was a prolonged silence as she sipped her water – or at least, pretended to – and Olaf studied his lunch. "I wasn't aware this was bothering you that much," he said at last.

Elsa wanted to agree but there was a large and very inconvenient lump in her throat, and she was having trouble speaking around it.

"I apologise, Elsa, for thinking this was a good thing for you," added the social worker with a rueful smile. "I'll… talk to Anna. I can't promise anything happening immediately, but…"

"Thank you, Olaf. Really."

* * *

 _Anna jolted awake hard. It had been one of those she glanced down at the mass of bandages that covered her legs, and remembered it hadn't been a dream. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes._

" _Anna? Are you awake?"_

" _No," she said flatly._

 _The voice chuckled. "I see." A chair scraped along the floor, coming closer. "Then I'll just sit here until you wake up."_

 _Anna laughed involuntarily. "What if I'm dead?"_

" _Well, then I'd have to find myself a new patient."_

 _She opened her eyes to look at her visitor. "Fine, I'm awake. Hi, Olaf."_

" _Good morning, Anna," said the social worker brightly. "How are you feeling today?"_

 _She considered the question carefully. "Feeling physically? Or emotionally?"_

" _Everything that's going through your mind now?"_

" _Are you sure you want to hear everything?"_

 _He shrugged. "That's what I'm here for."_

" _Okay then." Anna looked down at her hands. "I guess I'm on a lot of morphine now, because from what I can see, I'm a complete mess but I don't really feel any pain." She paused, mulling over her words. "Actually, I guess that's how I'm feeling about this entire thing too."_

 _Olaf nodded. "I know. You're very brave, Anna," he said gently, patting her hand._

 _She stared. "… Aren't you gonna say anything?"_

" _Do you want me to say something?"_

" _You're the social worker. Weren't you trained to know all the right things to say to kids like me?" There was anger lurking in her voice._

 _Olaf's expression was sad. "You aren't just a kid, Anna, and there's no such thing as magic words that can take away all the pain. As much as I want there to be."_

" _Yeah, exactly. I'm not like everyone else."_

 _He waited for her to elaborate._

" _I shouldn't be feeling this way, right? My parents are dead. I'll never walk again. That should count for something, right?" She'd raised her voice by the end; she could tell from the way he was wincing._

" _Everyone is different. It's okay to feel nothing."_

" _No, it's not okay. T_ _his is just_ wrong _." She clenched her fists. "I'm not supposed to be numb. I should be screaming and crying. Hating the person that did this to us. Anything but this..._ emptiness. _"_

 _Olaf leaned back in his chair, expression solemn. "Is that how you want to feel? Angry?"_

" _Anything is better than nothing. I want to feel something."_

 _He reached into the briefcase by the bedside, pulled out something and placed it in her lap. "Here."_

" _What's this? A plush toy?" Anna examined the snowman carefully, but it was a simple enough item; three plush balls sewn together, with stick arms, fat carrot nose, and a sewn grin. The presence of the plush snowman alone seemed to drain the tension from the room._

" _You can feel that," said Olaf nonchalantly. "It's soft and warm."_

 _She blinked. "You're making fun of me."_

" _I'm a professional. I would never do that," he insisted, eyes wide._

 _Anna squeezed the plush snowman, trying to squash the stuffing, making the carrot nose bulge. She increased the pressure steadily, her knuckles turning white. "He looks like you." The plush toy was miserably deformed at this point, but Olaf only said: "I'll take that as a compliment," and leaned back in his chair, checking his watch. "I have to talk to your doctor about your prognosis, so I'll be back in fifteen minutes or so. If you don't like Mr. Snowman, I'll take him with me when I get back. Alright?"_

 _She stared incredulously at him. "Mr. Snowman? Really?"_

" _I'm open to suggestions if you have something better in mind."_

" _Yeah, okay." Anna resumed her merciless squeezing of the snowman's head._

 _Olaf smiled at her as he left the room._

* * *

In retrospect, thought Elsa as she handed her identification card to the receptionist and was shown to a bland beige waiting room, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to visit Gerda at this stage of her life. She was a successful young professional with the best years of her career yet to come. Her writing career was doing fairly well. While she'd suffered major setbacks, she was mostly over professional therapy –

Her phone rang. Elsa blushed furious scarlet as she fumbled for it, deliberately ignoring the pointed look from the receptionist. "Hello?"

"Hi, Elsa. It's Marshall. Do you have a moment?"

"Yes, certainly. What can I do for you? If it's the newest plot and chapter outline, I'm not quite finished with it yet, I should have that for you by next week – "

" – I'm not calling about that." He sounded distinctly amused, but it could have easily been Elsa's overactive imagination. "I just wanted to let you know the illustrator who was supposed to be designing the covers for your books won't be working with our agency any longer."

"Oh."

"I know it has nothing to do with you," said Marshall, preempting what she was going to say, "but since the opportunity has presented itself, I thought you might like to have a say in hiring the new illustrator, since he or she will be working off your writing."

"… Uhm, okay? I mean, I'd love to."

"We'll shortlist some candidates and then arrange for you to come down one of these days to have a look – let's say, next Friday?"

"That sounds fine. Thank you, Marshall."

"Thank you. Good bye."

She was careful to switch her phone to its silent mode as she slipped it back into her bag, thoughts already drifting back to her work – or more accurately, the double lots of work waiting in her office and on her laptop. Elsa was saved by the opening of the door in front of her, and the departure of a nervous-looking young man.

Elsa waited a minute, and then knocked.

"Come in."

"Good afternoon, Elsa," said Gerda, glancing up from the pad in front of her. "It's nice to see you."

Elsa smiled. "Good afternoon, Gerda." She sat down without asking, adopting a prim position; feet tucked to her left, hands folded in her lap, head held high.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you."

The therapist leaned forward slightly. "How's work?"

An easy question. "Work is hectic, as usual, but nothing I can't handle," said Elsa.

"Good, good. Have you been doing your exercises?"

"All the time, whenever I need them. They've helped a lot."

Gerda nodded and wrote something down. Elsa wanted to fidget, but kept her hands clamped down.

"I'm glad to hear that." She laid her pen on the pad, pushing both to the side. "Off the record, okay? Is there anything you want to talk to me about?"

The younger woman's mouth went dry. "It's – the girl from the accident," she croaked. "She's my neighbor."

"Oh. Well…" Gerda pushed her spectacles higher on her nose. "How are you feeling about that?"

Feelings. She could handle this. Elsa took a moment to step back, to examine herself and take stock of the past week. "I was scared," she said, "so scared. She doesn't know who I am, I didn't know who she was – I mean, it was all a horrible coincidence. Like some drama show."

"Mmm," said Gerda.

"We talked a little. It was kind of inevitable, since we live opposite each other. I'm trying not to be friends with her, of course, since it's so weird, but it's hard because she's so nice, and she… doesn't know." The last was said in a near whisper.

Gerda nodded. "Why don't you want to be friends with her?"

Elsa stared for a moment. "It's too weird. I nearly killed her. I did actually kill her family. I just can't – no. She hates me."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"Isn't it kind of obvious? Look – let's say someone took everything from you. Wouldn't you hate that person?"

"Elsa, that's not the point." Gerda took off her spectacles, looking more tired than Elsa had ever seen her before. "She doesn't know who you are, isn't that right?"

"Yes…?"

"Are you going to tell her?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Under Gerda's steady gaze, Elsa blushed and mumbled, "I just… I'm reminded of it every time I see her. I can't help it."

"Can't help imagining what you did? Or imagining how you think she feels about it?"

"Both?"

The therapist sighed. "You're punishing yourself over this. It's not healthy."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Can I be honest with you?" The therapist put her spectacles back on. "I don't know."

An involuntary giggle escaped Elsa. "But you're a _therapist_. You can't not know."

"I might not know, but I can help you figure something out." Gerda reached for her pad. "We're not psychic, I'm afraid." She gave Elsa a small smile, which was returned. "I'm here to help you understand why you feel the way you do and provide a third-party perspective. I can't provide you answers because – "

"– I already know them," finished Elsa.

"Not quite," said Gerda indulgently, "but I think that your optimism is a good thing. Maybe we could talk about that?"

"Optimism? Really? Just because I said – look, it was just the therapy party line."

"That may be so, but I'm glad you think the answers are there already. It makes the process of finding them so much easier."

Elsa nodded slowly, squinting at her therapist.

* * *

Elsa was lost in thought over the therapy session – one very long overdue, she thought. The lift arrived with a ding. She pressed the button for her floor, staring blankly ahead as the lift doors started to close –

"Hey, sorry! Do you mind waiting a moment – Elsa?"

"Anna," said Elsa, and then nothing more, because her brain short-circuited. Anna grinned sheepishly at her.

"Hi. Sorry to make you wait."

"It's no problem." The lift doors slid closed. Elsa remained stock-still, her gaze remaining fixed on a dent in the polished chrome doors. She cursed the fact they lived on the 12th floor.

"Going home?" said Anna.

"Yes," replied Elsa. She didn't look at the other girl, and completely missed the wince – since when was the lift so slow?

When the interminable wait came to an end, Elsa held the lift doors open so Anna could reverse out. "Elsa, wait," said the redhead.

Politeness halted Elsa in her tracks. "What can I do for you, Anna?"

"The other day, at your place," said the younger girl.

Elsa flushed. "Yes, I – I'm sorry about what happened."

Anna pursed her lips, awkwardness quickly giving way to a genuine confusion. "What? Oh, no – you have nothing to apologise for, Elsa… I was just – wondering if you're okay."

"Me?"

"Yeah. We – didn't exactly part on the best of terms the other day, and I've been meaning to talk to you but we haven't been bumping into each other recently…"

Elsa didn't have the heart to tell her that it wasn't completely accidental.

"… but I guess if you don't really want to talk about it, it's fine," Anna was saying. Elsa glanced up, suddenly panicked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Anna's cheeks pinked. "I – ugh, this is awkward. Not that you're awkward. I am. You probably didn't need to hear that. Sorry."

"What I meant was," said Elsa quickly, cutting off what she was beginning to recognize as one of Anna's rambling monologues, "yes, I've been thinking about what you said the other day and… okay."

"Uh, okay?"

"Thank you for your understanding," she added, because she was polite like that. "I'm not the easiest person to get along with, so I really appreciate what you're offering to do for me."

"Oh, it's nothing like that at all!" Anna looked slightly panicked, hands flailing before her. "It's not a big deal for me! I'm probably way worse with my stupid rambling."

"You're not," said Elsa. It came out a little sharper than she had intended, judging by Anna's slight wince. "I – thank you. It means a lot to me."

Slowly, Anna relaxed into a smile. "Okay. That's good."

* * *

Elsa woke suddenly, startled by a loud noise. While she was rubbing her eyes and attempting to get her bearings, the stiffness in her neck and the laptop humming quietly in front of her told her that, despite her best efforts, she managed to fall asleep on her work. Not her architecture work either, to her chagrin.

At least her word count was now truly impressive.

The thumping started up again as she deleted the gibberish. Elsa got up, glancing at the mirror to ensure she was presentable, before opening her front door to investigate.

"Stupid – damned – _thing_!" More thumping, then the horrible long gurgling of something dying, and it was coming from Anna's apartment.

Elsa hesitated. They had reached an understanding, their tentative friendship a little less shaky – the tight feeling in her stomach had actually loosened a fraction the last time she spoke to Anna – but it was there, nonetheless.

It didn't make her decision easy, but she made it regardless.

"Anna?" called Elsa, knocking on the redhead's door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes! Mostly. Okay, no." The door was flung open abruptly, revealing Anna, flushed and irritated-looking, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. "Just a stab in the dark here, but… would you happen to know anything about kitchen plumbing?"

"Kitchen plumbing?" echoed Elsa.

"My sink's jammed," explained Anna as she followed the blonde into her kitchen. "I've got a manual here but it says that the pipe bit that might be clogged is all the way in the back where I can't reach."

"I see." Elsa went down on her knees to take a look. "I know nothing about kitchen plumbing, actually, but if you could do me a favour and let me know if I'm doing it right, I can try and get the pipe for you?"

"Thanks, Elsa." Armed with a flashlight and manual, Anna wheeled herself over to the sink. "Okay, you need to find this U-shaped bend…"

"Got it. Okay, this looks like a U shape…"

"Yeah, great. There should be a valve you can adjust. The manual says there might be a build-up of residue in the pipe, so maybe we could remove the pipe?"

"Okay – hang on a minute…" Elsa crawled back out, pulling off her shirt to reveal a sports bra. Anna turned crimson.

"H-hey, Elsa?"

"I don't want to get my shirt dirty," explained the blonde, tying her hair up into a high ponytail. "From the sound of it, I think this could get really messy." She avoided meeting Anna's eyes, certain that she was blushing.

"Oh… o-okay…"

"I've found the fasteners," she called, voice sounding hollow from under the sink. "I just remove the pipe section, right?"

"Yeah – be careful, though…"

Elsa unscrewed the pipe, yelping with alarm when water flowed out of it.

"Elsa! Everything okay?"

"Yes, just startled by the water coming out…" She slowly got up, groaning when her muscles complained. "Here's the U-bend."

"Oh! Great!" Anna squinted at it. "Ugh, it looks filthy… sorry, but can you hang around while I clean this out? I'm going to need you to help me put it back…"

"No problem. I'll help."

"You don't have to! You've done enough already." Anna shot into the bathroom with surprising speed, considering she had one hand frantically switching between holding onto the pipe and rolling herself forward. "Just give me five minutes, tops."

She was done in four, wearing a triumphant grin. "You will not believe how much gunk I washed out of this thing," she announced proudly, handing the pipe back to Elsa.

"I don't want to know," said Elsa wryly. She quickly put the pipe back. "Okay, turn on your water now?"

Clear water gushed out of the tap and into the sink. The pipes gurgled. Anna pumped her fist. "Yes! We did it! I'd high-five you, but ugh. No offence."

"None taken," said Elsa looking at herself and wrinkling her nose. "Since I'm already filthy, would you like help cleaning up the kitchen?"

Anna blinked as though she was seeing their surroundings for the first time; water pooled in the kitchen from when she had discovered the sink was jammed, and there was dirt caking their clothes – and arms, on Elsa's part. "I'll only accept if you agree to go out for dinner with me."

"Wait, what?"

There was a pause as the redhead processed the enormity of what she had said. "I mean – I owe you tons for helping me so far, and I still haven't thanked you properly for helping me move in yet! So it's only fair I buy you dinner! I didn't mean it in a date or anything – and – oh crap, I said it – but I would totally date you!" And then, oblivious to the soap and grime still coating her hands, Anna buried her face in them. "Just kill me now," she mumbled.

Elsa had remained frozen to the spot throughout the entire tirade – while no stranger to Anna's embarrassing monologues, she also wasn't quite sure how to respond to the sentiments unwittingly expressed. "Uhm – I'm going back to my place to shower, then I'll meet you at the lift in fifteen minutes?" She hastily tugged her shirt back on while Anna wasn't looking.

Anna lifted her face from her hands. "I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"Let me shower first, and then we can go eat. I haven't had dinner, so I think it sounds like a great idea."

"… On condition we never speak about what I just said."

Elsa nodded.

* * *

Elsa found it surprisingly difficult to choose what to wear. _It's a casual dinner between friends, for crying out loud,_ she thought as she surveyed the clothes strewn over her bed. All she needed to do was throw on something casual yet presentable enough for dinner. She hadn't gotten her expensive business shirt dirty – because she had stripped it off thoughtlessly in front of Anna. That was something Elsa knew she would have trouble forgetting.

She found, to her horror, that it had been too long since she'd gone out on a date even, and the art of dressing was completely forgotten. In the end, pressured by her own fifteen-minute deadline, Elsa picked a pair of jeans that weren't too worn, and a plain T-shirt that was closest to her.

Anna was already waiting for her, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. She straightened up when Elsa appeared. "Hey."

"Sorry I'm late."

"You're not late, I'm early." Anna's hand hesitated over the lift buttons. "Did you have a place in mind?"

"Why don't you suggest something? You're buying me dinner, after all," said Elsa with a smile.

Slowly, a smile appeared on the redhead's face. "Did you bring your car keys?"

* * *

"Tiana's Place?" asked Elsa as they pulled into the parking lot. "I've heard of this restaurant."

"It's the best place in town," said Anna happily. She practically leapt into her chair, wheeling herself up the ramp into the place. "You'll love it."

The interior looked like a cross between a traditional diner and a touch of something else – Elsa couldn't quite place it. Vintage art nouveau posters and colourful prints vied for space on the walls. A bubbly waitress greeted Anna by name, and led her to a table that, from the looks of it, was reserved specifically for the redhead.

"You come here often, don't you?" asked Elsa.

"Used to come here every afternoon back in high school." Anna looked completely at ease with their surroundings. "Tiana can cook everything under the sun, though she used to complain I was too skinny despite the burgers and fries she kept serving me."

She could see it now; a skinny Anna dwarfed by a stack of fries. The thought made her smile.

Another waitress bustled over to their table. "Hi, sugar; it's been a while since we've seen you. Where you been?"

"College is killing me, Lottie. I've got half a mind to drop out and make beignets for a living."

Lottie laughed. "Tiana would kill you and serve you up as the Sunday special." She turned to Elsa with a warm smile. "Ignore me, sweetie. Anna and I go back a long way, and she knows I'm only joking."

Elsa smiled uncertainly, not sure what to make of this place. The waitress' friendliness was setting her on edge despite knowing full well there was nothing to be upset about.

"I'll have the double bacon cheeseburger with extra fries, and a chocolate milkshake," said Anna, handing her menu back to Lottie. "Have you decided yet, Elsa?"

She blinked in surprise. "… Could I have the jambalaya, please?"

"Excellent choice," said Lottie, expertly taking the menu from Elsa and tucking them under her arm. "I'll be back with your food in a jiffy. Enjoy your date, Anna dear."

The redhead flushed scarlet. "She isn't – we aren't – Lottie!"

"Oh, sorry," said the waitress, sounding completely unrepentant, winking at them both. Anna groaned and slumped forward.

"Anna…?"

"Please," mumbled the redhead with a theatrical wave of her hand, "just leave me to die."

Elsa was close to expiring of embarrassment as well; clearing her throat, she changed the subject. "How did you discover this place? It looks really interesting."

"Oh. That. I did some freelance work in graphic design back in high school," said Anna, propping her chin up on her arms, "and Tiana – the owner and chef – contacted me to do up a flyer for her gumbo night promotion. It was a pretty straightforward job, so I asked her to give me and Kristoff a ticket each for gumbo night as payment, the food was so awesome, and I never really left. What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she added, noticing Elsa's expression.

"You did freelance graphic design in high school?"

Anna shrugged. "Yeah."

"Anna, that's amazing."

She coloured a little. "I guess… maybe? Honestly, it was only because most part-time jobs are out for me because of my legs."

"Still," said Elsa, "don't downplay yourself." She hesitated, not sure what to say next.

Anna seemed to understand; she smiled shyly.

The blonde suddenly remembered what she wanted to say. "So, do you still do freelance work? I mean, that would be unbelievable, squeezing it in on top of your schoolwork…"

"Yes, and yes," laughed Anna. "In much reduced amounts, though. I do the odd job here and there – basically for anyone who doesn't mind my packed schedule."

Lottie chose that moment to arrive with their food. "Here you go, dears."

"This looks amazing," said Anna over the top of her towering burger, "tell Tiana she's outdone herself – again." She popped a french fry into her mouth.

"Oh, but Naveen made yours," smirked Lottie. The redhead made gagging noises. "Don't worry, honey, Tiana made your jambalaya personally," the waitress assured Elsa.

"Honestly, Lottie, the only reason I'm still here is because Tiana built a ramp especially for me," said Anna grumpily. "You ought to be ashamed, holding me captive."

"Your patronage is always appreciated," said Lottie, smiling angelically as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Enjoy your food."

Elsa took a bite of jambalaya; it was as excellent as Anna had said it looked.

"Good?" asked Anna, and laughed when she received a nod in response. "Tiana is the best cook in town. Her husband, Naveen, however… he's from a pretty well-off family so he's useless at household things. He's learning a lot, though, to be fair." The redhead took a bite of her burger, chewing it slowly, her face screwed up in concentration. "Passable," pronounced Anna. "Actually, it's good. Tiana's been whipping him into shape. I brought a friend here once and we got served this grey shapeless thing he made that was supposed to be a casserole. That was not one of my coolest moments."

Elsa was grateful for the food; it gave her something to do with herself instead of stressing out about being in Anna's presence. It was almost… nice.

* * *

 _Anna was dreading the first day of her rehab. Once they had ascertained that her legs were incapable of supporting her, she was to focus on building up her strength to use a wheelchair. They had offered her an electric wheelchair, but Anna had declined. She was already feeling helpless. Sitting in a chair, controlling her movements with a joystick, she would be completely lost. They understood, though. Olaf, using the money from her anonymous benefactor, had arranged for an aluminium-frame wheelchair._

 _Right on time, the physiotherapist arrived. She had been expecting someone warm and motherly, but Anna was disappointed. "Anna, right?" asked the short and squat man. He had what looked like an unlit cigar jammed in the corner of his mouth. "I'm Phil. Call me Phil. Let's get started."_

" _What?"_

 _He stared at her like she had grown two heads. "You hafta get out of that bed first before we can do anything, yeah? I've got yer chair here, so I need you to get out of bed and into the chair so we can go to the rehab room."_

" _You can't smoke in here," blurted out Anna._

" _I know that, I work here," he said brusquely. "Are you gonna move, or are you just gonna waste my time?"_

 _Bright red with mortification, she did as she was told and swung her legs out of the bed. Anna had used her chair before; the nurses had helped her go to the toilet. But they had always helped her with every step, and they had been patient and understanding._

 _Phil was… different. He was curt to the point of being rude, and he made no attempt to help her into the chair, merely staring as she fumbled with the rails, tapping his foot impatiently. "Right, let's go," he said the instant she was seated, pushing the chair forward with enough force to topple her against the back._

" _Watch it!" she snapped._

" _Hey, not my fault you're slow," he shot back as they rounded a corner, sending nurses and doctors alike scattering. "But it's my job to fix that."_

 _Anna spluttered. "What the hell kind of therapist are you?!"_

" _The best kind, kid. Also, don't swear unless you're a hairy balding guy like me. Okay, we're here."_

 _If the physiotherapist had been disappointing, at least the room lived up to Anna's expectations. People in mint-green and white uniforms, identical to Phil's clothing, guided patients through various exercises._

 _He had pulled up outside a rowing machine, but this time he helped her into the seat, securing the buckles and supports. Anna was relieved to note he wasn't rough as his manner. "Okay, so," he said, consulting the clipboard from under his arm, "says here that your legs are shot, but your thigh muscles have some function, and your pelvis is working fine, but we'll start with your arms today. How're you feeling?"_

" _Uh… okay, I guess?"_

 _Phil made a snorting sound. "Okay ain't clear enough. Are you feeling ill, tired, etc etc. Stuff I really need to know before I put you through your paces."_

" _I'm fine," said Anna nastily. She was beginning to hate this guy. "I won't pass out, if that's what you're worried about."_

 _He cocked a finger pistol at her. "I'll hold ya to that. Okay, you know how this works, right? Can you do a pull for me so I can calibrate the weights for you?"_

 _Anna did, gasping a little as she tugged on the handle. "No, no, pull with your back. I don't want you spraining anything. There, that's it." Phil guided her with small touches, grunting when he was satisfied. "Okay, put it back – slowly – and gimme a sec to adjust."_

 _Anna waited, feeling horribly inadequate and self-conscious, clad in sweat pants and a ratty T-shirt. Her gaze fell on a boy about her age, stumbling through the parallel bars with the aid of a rotund man. He noticed her looking and grinned at her. Anna grinned back._

" _Done. Give it a try now."_

 _The redhead gripped the handles and pulled. It was heavier than it had been, but she gritted her teeth, not wanting to complain to Phil. If this was what he was expecting her to pull, then she was very well not going to give in and be subjected to his insults. It took all her strength to return the handles back to the rest position without simply letting go, her arms shaking from the strain._

" _Good," said Phil, "now we're gonna do that another five times."_

" _Five?"_

" _Ya think ya can handle that?"_

 _Anna bristled. "Do I look like I can't?"_

" _Maybe a little. Let's see." He stood back, hands on his hips. "Start anytime you're ready, kid."_

 _The first two were easy. Her muscles started to burn halfway through the third; Anna gritted her teeth and powered through. The fourth pull was fine even if her fingers slipped a little returning the handle. Her grip was white-knuckled through the last pull, entire body straining, her mind completely focused on pulling all the way back and_ not letting go no matter what –

 _By the time Anna finished the set, she was panting, her forehead beaded with sweat, and only her willpower prevented her from simply dumping the handles. Phil nodded._

" _Not bad for your first day. Take a break, and we'll do another ten?"_

 _Her jaw dropped. "Ten?"_

" _What, not too tough, is it? I guess we could always switch to something easier…"_

" _No!" Anna cleared her throat. "I mean, no, it's_ fine _." She put all the venom she could muster into the last word._

 _He smirked at her. "Good ta hear."_

 _The first five had been completed relatively quickly. Now, each pull was excruciatingly slow, her world narrowed to her grip on the handles and maintaining said grip. After the sixth, Anna paused to catch her breath. Her back slumped. She refused to look at Phil._

 _The final few were done in short bursts of energy with the pauses in between getting longer. She was gasping by the time she was done._

 _Phil never said a word throughout. The instant Anna had returned the handles to their rest position and slumped back in her seat, he patted her shoulder and said, "Good work, kid." Anna felt her heart lift hearing praise from the gruff man._

" _It was nothing," she joked, flexing her biceps. Phil looked stunned for a moment, before the cocky smirk came back._

" _Oh? Glad ya think so, wait 'til ya see what we're doin' next…"_

 _Anna groaned._

* * *

There was a pair of paper coffee cups on Elsa's desk when she walked into her office the next morning. She frowned; she was quite certain she was the first one in the office. _Though it could have been left over from last night…_ Elsa had been guilty of not cleaning up after herself when working late, and been told off by the cleaners for it.

She put out her hand – and drew it back with a surprised sound. It was still warm.

Closer inspection showed that both cups were filled with hot coffee, and bore the logo of the coffee shop down the block – and there two muffins sitting next to them. She hadn't noticed it on the first glance, but their presence definitely meant they weren't there yesterday. Elsa took a sip from one of the cups. A latte. Brewed to perfection.

"You looked a little too busy to go downstairs for coffee, so I took the liberty of bringing the coffee to you."

She looked up as Hans walked into her office. "Hans," she said dumbly, "what are you doing here?"

"Invading your personal space." He pulled her business card from his suit pocket. "I went down for my coffee break and thought of you. Your secretary was kind enough to believe me when I said I knew you, and saintly enough to believe I wouldn't poison the coffee."

Elsa blushed. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Now, I'm going to impose on you again, and ask you if I can join in your coffee break." Hans nodded at the coffees and muffins. "Though if you fancy my share, you're welcome to it, especially if that'll sway your decision in my favour."

She laughed. "So that's why there are two. I thought I was so sleep-deprived that I was seeing double."

"So is that a yes?"

"I can hardly say no to someone who brought me coffee, can I?"

He beamed at her and sat down primly. "Thank you. You have no idea how boring the place was without you."

Elsa let the compliment slide, remarking: "I'm rather impressed how you made it up here, balancing two grande-sized coffees and muffins."

"I used to be a coffee boy. Charming and useful tradition. I didn't know the value of being able to carry twelve coffees without spilling a drop."

Elsa recalled her own coffee runs fondly. She had insisted on starting from the bottom rung of the company despite her father's protests, and served her time as the coffee girl – which, she was a little embarrassed to recall, was rather brief. "You pick up skills that put real servers to shame."

"I can vouch for that. I used to bus tables in my family's restaurant."

"Your family owns a restaurant?"

"Not quite." He glanced away, and then back at her, looking a little embarrassed. "My family owns a hotel chain. Us kids were put to work in multiple departments growing up. I've been a concierge, a kitchen boy, assistant groundskeeper, and bellboy, among other jobs."

Elsa looked at him as though seeing him in a new light. "The Sorenson hotel chain."

"Not as well-known as the Hiltons, but I'm glad you know us."

"This is a family business for me too," said Elsa. "My father was CEO, after all. Though I'm curious why you didn't continue in the family business."

Hans drained his coffee cup. "It's a bit of a long story. Do you mind if we continue over dinner tonight?"

"… Hans, are you asking me out?"

"Yes, I believe I am. Only if you're free, of course – if you didn't have time for an afternoon break, the chances of dinner aren't that great."

His rambling reminded him of someone else she _didn't_ want to be reminded of. "I think dinner tonight would be nice."

* * *

 _Any day that Phil didn't insult her was a good day in Anna's book. Olaf's visits slowly became full of tirades on how Phil was driving her up the wall, Phil was being a completely unprofessional asshole and it was a small miracle he hadn't been sacked, what Phil said to her._

 _Olaf listened to everything with a small smile on his face, and would invariably say: "It sounds like you and Phil are getting on great."_

 _Anna snorted. "Great? If that's your definition of great, I think you should hand in that social worker degree wherever you got it from." She followed up her statement with a vicious squeeze to the plush snowman's neck.  
_

 _"Oh, you kept him," said Olaf happily. "Is he still Mr. Snowman?"_

 _"No, he's Carrot-Nose, and he_ loves _warm hugs." Anna squashed the poor snowman again for emphasis._

 _"Carrot-Nose. Hmm. It suits him."_

 _She had scowled, bitterly disappointed that he was taking no interest in her homicidal tendencies._

 _Now, as she sweated through the lat pull-downs, she dearly wished the session was over so she could strangle Olaf instead of Carrot-Nose. That would show Phil her improved muscle tone, if nothing else._

 _Oh, how she dearly regretted thinking the portly physiotherapist wasn't that bad on her first day. That under his gruff exterior lay a heart of gold._

 _No, his gruff exterior concealed a heart of flint._

" _Come on, you can do better than that! My grandmother could get up from her deathbed and do twenty pull-downs without stopping!"_

" _Then ask your grandmother to do them," grunted Anna, puffing as she laboriously yanked down the bar._

" _What's that? Am I hearing sass? Ya don't have enough to do, am I right?" He leaned closer, close enough for her to smell his stale breath. "How about another ten?"_

 _Anna would have screamed if there was enough energy left in her. Instead, she channeled all the hatred she felt for Phil into another vicious pull-down, and the physiotherapist made a pleased sound. "Yeah, now that's what I'm talking about. Finally you start taking this seriously, kid."_

 _Her fingers tightened on the bar. He noticed._

" _Don't grip that so hard, you'll get blisters." Phil checked his watch. "You finish up here, and take a water break. I'll be back in ten."_

 _Nodding, Anna gulped her water, not bothering to watch him leave. The boy from her last session was in the corner of the room – it seemed like he shared a few therapy sessions with her. While his therapist busied himself with the clipboard in his hands, the boy limped over to her._

" _Hey," he said, giving her an awkward wave. "I'm Harold. My friends call me Hiccup."_

" _Anna. Sorry my hand's sticky," She took his proffered hand and shook it, smiling apologetically._

 _Hiccup only shrugged. "Mine's worse." He gripped the side of her machine, lowering himself onto the floor with a grunt. "My therapist can't complain if sitting down means I practice using my leg, yeah?"_

" _What happened to it?"_

" _Training accident. It was too far gone, and they couldn't save it." He patted the prosthetic leg. "Once I learn how to walk with this, I'm gonna trade it in for a bionic model."_

" _Nice." Anna sensed him looking expectantly at her; she hesitated, suddenly unwilling to discuss her accident. Hiccup seemed to pick up on her reluctance, because he quickly interjected: "When are your physio sessions? You should meet Ariel, she's finishing up her wheelchair therapy. She's an excellent mimic, she does impressions of the hospital staff. You should see it."_

" _Oh." It was one thing dealing with her own struggle, and quite another hearing about someone else's_ _– and which wasn't the emphasis of the conversation._

" _We're pretty cool with the whole thing," said Hiccup quickly, as though sensing her thoughts. "I make flamingo jokes to my therapist all the time."_

 _Anna snorted involuntarily, and he beamed._

" _You're actually doing awesome. Phil's notorious for being a tough cookie, but he's one of the best therapists in the country."_

" _Are they comparing therapists or torturers?" she said dryly._

" _Isn't that the same thing?"_

 _They were snickering when Phil bustled back in. "You done, kid? I'm guessing not, since you aren't gasping for breath on the floor. And you, Haddock, back to your exercises or I'll make sure you don't even have a leg to stand on."_

 _Hiccup flipped Phil the bird behind his back, and Anna giggled._

* * *

She should have known not to expect anything less; Tony's was classy yet comfortable, with pasta that made her swoon at the first bite. Elsa almost felt guilty for settling for greasy takeout as often as she did.

"How many older brothers did you say you have again?"

"Twelve," he answered, sipping his wine. "It goes without saying why I opted out of the family business."

"Actually, not quite."

"Too much competition, really. It runs in the family; we're all devilishly handsome, talented, and ambitious." Hans smirked at the expression on Elsa's face. "Okay, seriously, my chances of being group director were very slim. We all started out at the bottom but by the time it was my turn, they'd gotten that headstart. I don't doubt that I'm capable enough to make my mark but I also wanted to make a name for myself. It's not easy living in everyone else's shadows, emphasis on the plural."

Elsa could understand that. While she didn't have older siblings who would take over the company from her, there had been a certain amount of pressure both from her father and the people around her that she would meet their expectations by following in Agdar's footsteps. She couldn't imagine a life other than becoming an architect like her father had been – even though there were times when she could almost picture herself as a full-time novelist. Elsa smiled at the thought; no more clients, no more power suits. Sitting at home all day, working and sleeping when she pleased…

Hans was laughing at her. "I do believe you're daydreaming on me, Miss Brundtland. Am I that boring, or is the wine stronger than expected?"

She blushed. "If you're paying for dinner, Hans, at the very least you could call me Elsa. And no, I don't think the wine is at fault; it's very good."

He arched an eyebrow. "If you thought I was going to make you pay for your share – and I don't blame you, I _am_ a lawyer, after all – I'd be horribly offended. I like to think I'm a gentleman. And I'm glad to hear that." Hans refilled her glass.

"Is your family supportive of your career choices?"

"In a fashion." Hans smirked. "They understand, but they haven't stopped trying to get me back in. It _is_ a family business, after all. My older brothers have asked me to oversee a few minor projects – in my spare time, of course."

"Of course," echoed Elsa.

"They've hinted they might be interested in actually paying me if I worked my way and got my own firm. Alas, that's still a long way off." He set aside his glass. "But enough about me. I want to hear more about you."

* * *

"Glad you could come down," said Marshall, nodding at Elsa, "I know how busy you are… and should be."

She laughed. "Slavedriver."

"Do you remember what I said when your first book took off?"

"I'm not giving up my career for you, Marshall," said Elsa.

"Fine. Don't think you've heard the last of it from me, though." He had a stack of large plastic folders on the meeting room table in front of him, along with a few books. Elsa recognized one to be hers. "We've asked a few artists to share their portfolios with us, and narrowed it down to a few." He patted the folders.

Elsa reached for the nearest one, flipping through the glossy pages. "I like this one," she said, showing a piece to Marshall, "very film noir. Oh, this one is nice too. I like the composition. It doesn't have to match the earlier ones, does it?"

"No, we can go with anything you like. Your books are popular enough that we'll be printing second editions. I've already got one in mind, in case you can't decide on just one."

"I'm not that bad, am I?"

"No, it's just me. Hazards of the job. You always make tough decisions for everyone else."

She opened another folder, scrutinized the works for a while, and then pushed it to one side. "Not this, no." The table slowly began to be cluttered with open folders she 'needed to come back to'.

The last folder at the bottom was plain black, like the rest. Elsa opened it to the first page.

Immediately, she was struck by the drawing. A galaxy of stars stretched out before her, melding into an ocean, birds and music interwoven into the scene. "This one," she heard herself saying, as though from far away.

Marshall chuckled softly. "Looks like we agree. I'll give the girl a call, let her know she's got the job."

Elsa only nodded. She continued to look through the portfolio. Most of the pieces were digitally painted, but the saturated watercolour style was bold and attractive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is... all over the place, really. POV jumps from person to person, and into flashbacks. It will settle down soon, bear with me.

My beta tells me that Anna is a lucky girl indeed, to have all the handicap aids money can buy. But it's mostly because Elsa feels so guilty.

There are some drug abuse and disparaging of disability triggers here, because Anna is an angsty teenager.

* * *

In hindsight, Elsa didn't regret going out for dinner with Hans – even when it meant she was a chapter short on the draft, and was facing a possible all-nighter.

He was an interesting person overall. Funny without being inane, a good listener and conversationalist. Distantly, Elsa noted that he was conventionally handsome, sideburns and all – she _was_ a Jane Austen fan – but that wasn't something she was particularly interested in at this point in time.

She had had fun with a new friend over a delicious dinner. Simple as that. And now, it was back to work.

* * *

" _I hate him."_

" _Who, Phil?"_

" _Who else?" deadpanned Anna. She lay on her back, arms and legs askew, sheets tangled around her. "Only one person derives joy from watching me suffer through endless and impossible amounts of exercise. It's like my own personal Tartarus. And you," she lifted a hand, pointing at Olaf, "your lack of concern is disturbing."_

" _Well, I find your lack of faith disturbing," intoned the social worker, blinking bemusedly when the silence stretched on. "… It's from Star Wars."_

 _Anna's gaze slid sideways, alighted on him, and returned to the ceiling. "References hurt. Thinking hurts. Everything hurts."_

" _No pain, no gain."_

" _Okay, enough with the tired pop culture references and clichéd statements. Do they teach that at social worker school? Is that some kind of ploy you use to win kids' affections by finding something relatable?"_

" _Exactly," he said, sounding impressed. Anna snorted. "Fine. Not quite in those terms, but I can't always be here just to listen to you talk about your therapist. I'm here for you." He took his usual chair by the side, crossing his legs neatly._

" _It's my choice if I wanna spend this time talking about my therapist. I don't have anyone else to talk to or talk about. I'm in a hospital."_

 _Olaf made a non-committal noise. "How's Carrot-Nose?"_

" _Hopelessly addicted to morphine which he keeps stealing from other patients' dosages," answered Anna listlessly. "He used to go to physical therapy but stopped after he beat his asshole therapist to death with a walker."_

 _Olaf glanced at Anna briefly, but his pen didn't stop writing. "Does he still love warm hugs?"_

" _No, he prefers the sweet embrace of getting high. It takes away all the pain."_

" _I'll sign Carrot-Nose up for rehab, then." The social worker pushed his glasses further up his nose. "And how about you? Apart from your issues with your therapist, of course."_

 _Anna sighed. "I don't know."_

" _Don't know? Do you mind elaborating – about your feelings? Or yourself?"_

" _Could we go over what's going to happen to me when I get out of here?" She felt sick to the stomach thinking about herself now. Thinking about the distant future helped._

" _Okay, Anna." He closed his notepad. "You'll resume your studies. Though you've already chosen to be privately tutored, we discussed sending you to school. Your benefactor has already paid your hospital bills in addition to depositing a monthly check in your bank account. After you get your high school diploma, you have the option of going to college. I'll have to clear your major with your benefactor to get the funds you need."_

" _Cool. I'll be an educated cripple."_

" _Anna." She froze; Olaf's voice was suddenly icy._

" _I do not ever want to hear you use that word again. Am I clear?"_

" _Yeah," the girl said. She had intended for it to sound cocky, but it came out wavering. The embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she added, "But it's true, though. I'll be stuck in a chair my whole life."_

" _It won't prevent you from living a full and happy life."_

" _Yeah? So I can try out for the cross-country team then? Oh, and go for the long jump while I'm at it."_

 _Olaf sighed. "Anna, there's a difference between being realistic and being cruel. All I'm saying is that you can get the most of what life has to offer, but you have to recognize that your situation has changed."_

" _What would you know? You can still walk."_

 _He paid no heed to the muffled sob that accompanied her last word; instead, he began packing away his things, rustling his papers loudly. "I'm sorry, Anna. I don't think I've been very helpful today. Maybe I'll come back another day."_

" _Yeah, you do that." She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow._

* * *

While the snow that had fallen overnight wasn't as heavy as the day she had driven Anna to school, it was definitely a considerable amount.

Elsa added _being a decent human being and neighbor_ to her list of daily exercises and went to knock on Anna's door.

"Anna? Are you in?"

She heard muffled noises from within heralding Anna's approach before the redhead opened the door. "Hey, Elsa," she said breezily. "What's up?"

Elsa cleared her throat. It didn't get any easier with time. "Uhm, there's a lot of snow today."

"Yeah, it's crazy. I should get snow tires for my chair."

"I was wondering if you'd like to carpool with me," said Elsa, and then pinked when the humour of Anna's last remark sank in, "until the weather conditions get a bit more maneuverable. That is, if you don't mind."

The redhead's mouth dropped open a bit. "Elsa, are you offering to drive me to school?"

"Only until the roads thaw a little and you aren't in danger of freezing to death waiting for an unreliable bus service." Elsa realized it was the longest single sentence she'd said to Anna, and clamped her mouth shut.

"… while it's really, _really_ nice and sweet of you to offer, I really don't want to impose on you. I mean, you're going out of your way – not driving-wise, but getting my chair in and out – to make sure I'm okay – "

"j – It's not free."

That made Anna pause mid-ramble. "I'm sorry, what did you say again?"

"You can pay for gas." Elsa remembered Olaf saying something about Anna wanting to be more independent. She was glad she had remembered it at the right moment; the redhead was chewing on her lower lip, deep in thought. "It's honestly not a problem for me since it's on my way to work," added the blonde hastily, "I'd be offering whether you were in the chair or not."

"Sounds fair," said Anna at last, offering her a smile. "I accept your offer, Elsa, on the additional condition you allow me to buy you a coffee whenever I feel like it."

"Deal."

* * *

The next morning, Elsa was already waiting by the lift, hands stuffed in the pockets of her overcoat.

Anna emerged from her house with a plastic tray attached to the side of her chair, two cups tucked in the pockets. "This morning's gas," she said, tapping the top of one drink, "both for the car and the driver."

"Thank you."

Apart from the slight hesitation when exiting the lift, Elsa found that she could tune out and pretend Anna wasn't _Anna_ , and that she was doing something nice for a neighbor. She had forgotten to share that with Gerda, as part of proof that she was doing just fine interacting with people.

"Do you listen to the radio?"

Elsa blinked. "Um, no; not usually." Her gaze slid to the car radio. "I have CDs, but you can turn the radio on if you want."

"You're sure?" Anna had a hand already out, suspended on the way to the radio, looking like a kid caught at the cookie jar.

"I'm sure. Go ahead," said the blonde, smiling reassuringly. Belatedly, she realized the radio was a convenient way of filling the silence between them.

Anna fiddled with the tuning and volume knobs, waiting for them to exit the carpark. She grinned when distorted electric guitars wailed. "Uh, do you have any particular preference?"

"Not at all. Think of it as a bonus for making me coffee," said Elsa in a flash of inspiration.

The redhead nodded. She browsed several stations before deciding on a song with a thrumming bass line, settling back into her seat. "Thanks for letting me hijack your radio."

Elsa hummed, pretending to be concentrating on the road.

* * *

When Elsa walked into the firm, her coffee in one hand, Nancy looked up from her desk.

"Oh, you've gotten a coffee already?"

"Um, yes." She didn't particularly feel like explaining the convoluted circumstances. "Why?"

"Mr. Westergaard left breakfast for you again. It's in your office." There was a shadow of a grin lurking around the secretary's features, one Elsa chose to ignore. With a quick 'thanks', she entered her office.

Apart from the coffee and muffin she was expecting, there was also a bouquet of flowers and a note.

 _Elsa,_

 _Thanks again for letting me take you for dinner the other night, it was great. Hoping we can do that again soon._

 _Hans_

She arched an eyebrow. It wasn't every day a man sent flowers after a date – because that's what the note was subtly suggesting – and judging from her girlfriends' stories in their college days, it indicated a guy was a keeper. Or at least, thought Elsa, as she called for Nancy, as far as she could recall. She hadn't much experience with dating.

"Could you put these in water for me, please?"

"Sure," said Nancy, smirking a little. "In here?"

"No, maybe outside at reception. It could do with a bit of colour."

"Seriously?"

"Have you known me to be anything less than serious?"

Nancy arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing further. When the secretary was gone, Elsa called Hans. "Thank you for breakfast and the flowers," she said without preamble once he'd answered.

He chuckled. "You're welcome."

"I read your note."

"I hope I wasn't being too presumptuous."

"You're not." She toyed with a sheet of paper. "I had fun too."

"So that's a yes, then?"

Elsa had to laugh. "Now who's being too presumptuous?"

* * *

"You know, when you said dinner, I was expecting something similar to the last – date," said Elsa, hesitating over the last word.

Hans grinned, but seemed oblivious to the pause. "Let's be honest with ourselves, nothing comes close to Tony's. That was me pulling out the big guns to impress you to improve my chances of this happening." He toasted her with his stained coffee mug.

"And having a late, late dinner at a roadside diner after a movie is going to improve your chances of more dinners?" Elsa asked.

He shrugged. "I figured you should know what you're getting yourself into."

She let the statement go unchallenged. "So the scion of a wealthy hotel chain-owning family enjoys greasy diner food. It's hardly the stuff of gossip magazines, I'll admit I eat more takeout than I should."

"You don't look like it," he said, grinning. "You look like an organic smoothie and salad girl – not that I want you to be! It just means we're going to get along just fine, yeah?"

Elsa smirked in spite of herself. "Yeah."

* * *

Elsa had always been immensely grateful when projects neared completion; mostly, of course, because it meant an end to that particular chunk of work, but it also meant not having to deal with that client. It was awkward, being not just a customer yet not really a friend, but in that odd space in between.

This was an exception. Kuzco was definitely a friend, even if he did have a strange predilection for llamas. Nevertheless, he was a good client to work with and he was happy with his beach house. Oaken's team had done a good job, and there were congratulations all around.

Giving the entire office the following day off was a snap decision, but a good one. Elsa felt they deserved the impromptu break – not to mention she could hole up with her work.

"Is it casual Friday today?" came the bemused question from Anna.

Elsa glanced down at her jeans and shirt. "Oh, no – I'm not going to the office today."

The other girl looked aghast. "You didn't tell me you didn't need to go in. I could've taken the bus."

"Nonsense, I have things to do anyway. You aren't inconveniencing me at all."

Anna's mouth tightened. She nodded once, just as sharply. "Okay."

Just as the blonde was about to take the left turn towards campus, Anna leaned forward and tapped on the dashboard. "Elsa, could you go straight instead?"

"Why? Do you have something you need to do?" asked the blonde.

"No, just… keep driving. It's a surprise." A smile tugged at the edges of Anna's mouth.

"Don't you have class?"

"I can ditch if I want. It's a free country," said Anna, and then grinned. "Also, I may or may not be two hours early for class because I wanted to work on my new project in the school studio."

"New project?"

"Yeah, I freelance sometimes. Got a new client who really liked my work, but I can't say much – confidentiality clause and all. I like working at school because they have much nicer stuff – " Her expression turned slightly panicked. " – oh god, I sound like a criminial. You won't tell anyone, right? Turn right at the next junction."

Elsa was feeling a little overwhelmed by the barrage of information, but managed to comply, turning smoothly. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks."

The car meandered down silent roads, the occasional flash of other cars going past becoming rarer as they drove.

"Are we going out of the city?" asked Elsa, finally recognizing the road they were taking.

After giving the driver instructions to keep going straight until the next exit, Anna said, "Yep. I'm still not telling you exactly where it is, though; it's a surprise, like I said."

"We're going to end up at the bottom of the ocean, and that's what I deserve for trusting weird girls in wheelchairs," groused Elsa good-naturedly. Anna let out a surprised bark of laughter.

"What now?" asked the blonde, blushing hot.

"You made a joke! This is a landmark day for you," proclaimed Anna. "I am clearly a good influence on – whoa, okay, slow down a bit because we are taking the right fork. We're almost there…"

And Elsa turned the corner, and saw the beach. "Park anywhere you like," said Anna, smiling at the awe on Elsa's face, "because this is it."

The blonde got out to get Anna's wheelchair, and then started, "Um, your chair… is it alright on the sand?"

"We're not going out onto the sand, silly," said Anna, amused. "We're staying put."

"Oh."

The redhead's expression turned fond; she wound down her window so the sounds of the beach could drift inside. They were parked a little way off from a promenade; music and laughter mingled with the murmuring of the surf and sand.

"This is nice," said Elsa, and Anna hummed her agreement.

"I used to go to the beach a lot when I was small," she said. "We – my family – never had much money, so our holidays mostly consisted of us driving down, eating takeout from some dingy place, and going back home." Her expression was completely dreamy, lost in memories – she completely missed the dark guilt that stole over Elsa's face. "After the accident, I couldn't go anymore, of course. Kristoff, Ma and Pa, they offered to carry me, but I turned them down. We went to the local pool, but that wasn't quite the same, you know?"

"I'm sorry," said Elsa softly.

Anna chuckled. "Silly goose, what are you apologising for? You didn't cause the accident."

Cold sweat trickled down the back of Elsa's neck. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Before she could say anything, Anna added: "Besides, I found other things to do with my time. Like popping wheelies in the school playground. I didn't need to ride a skateboard to be cool."

"Wheelies?" managed Elsa.

"I had more street cred than I knew what to do with," said Anna dryly. "And I got to use the school lifts. Everybody wanted to be my friend so they could carry my books and hitch a ride. Oh, and of course, I got to sit inside the air-conditioned gym while everyone sweated and expired doing laps for the sadistic coach." She grinned wickedly at the memory. "I almost miss high school."

Elsa hadn't said anything else. Her expression was still strained. Anna finally noticed; her hand hesitated in her lap, and then came to rest on Elsa's. The blonde started.

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable by talking about my accident. I'm sorry," said Anna quietly. "I asked you to drive here because I wanted to show you a part of me. Even though it's history, but it was spontaneous and fun – oh god, at least I'm hoping you had fun."

"I did," confirmed Elsa. "Thanks for taking me out here."

* * *

" _Okay, that wasn't as bad as I'd expected."_

 _Anna resisted the urge to growl. She reached for the towel dangling from the rail, mopping at her face. "As expected?" she said in a nasty tone of voice._

" _Not as bad as expected doesn't mean it was good. I don't think ya need a break, given you slacked through that last rep. Do it again."_

 _Her jaw dropped, along with the towel. "Wait, what?"_

" _You heard me. I'm pretty sure your ears work fine."_

" _Okay, that's it!" She sat up, as straight as her body could accommodate. "Where do you get off treating me like shit?"_

 _There was a terrible silence. Anna willed her jaw steady as he glanced down at her, deliberately not looking at him. Slowly, Phil went down on one knee so he could look Anna properly in the eye. "You got anything else you wanna say to me?"_

 _The tone of his voice goaded her on. "You bet. I don't know what crawled your ass and died to give you that kind of attitude when talking to patients, but I'm pretty sure physical therapists aren't supposed to act like you do."_

 _Phil nodded. "Mmm. 'Kay. Anything more?"_

 _She yanked the unlit cigar from his mouth, chucking it away contemptuously, never breaking eye contact._

 _He grunted. "I'm guessing that's it."_

" _Yeah."_

" _Alright." The therapist straightened back up, moving to pick up the cigar and stuff it into his pocket. "Just something for you to think over, though." He nodded at her. "I think you've made a lot of progress in the past month, from being a bedridden sop to a cable fly pro, and I like to think my insults played some part in that."_

 _Anna blinked. He had a point. "There are better ways of motivating people, right?"_

 _Phil laughed. "Sure there are, but this is more fun." He retreated a step. "I meant it about the reps, though."_

 _Of course he had waited until he was out of throwing range before adding that last bit. She settled for ignoring him and returning to her cable flies._

* * *

After Elsa had dropped Anna at her school – eventually – she didn't immediately take a nap like she had intended to do; her muse was alert, and she felt inspired.

 **The detective straightened up with a grunt. He was getting a bit too old to be working cases like these; maybe he would go back to the office tomorrow morning, bright and early, and request a transfer. Nice, quiet desk work, that didn't involve grim trekking over godforsaken terrain, and a talkative girl for company –**

" **Richard! Over here!"**

 **Then again, he thought, breaking into a jog, nothing came close to the thrill of discovery. Richard came to a halt directly behind his partner, his aches quite forgotten. "What is it?"**

 **Her flashlight played over a patch of sand, where something twinkled. "It could be nothing, but it's worth checking out." She was young, but her tone was cool and professional. "Looks like a… cigarette lighter?"**

" **A long shot. People drop lighters all the time."**

" **Not this kind." She had yanked a rubber glove on, and was brushing sand away from the lighter. "Metal, expensive-looking. People drop cheap Bic lighters all the time, not something like this."**

" **Morrison didn't smoke."**

" **Then it could have belonged to his murderer."**

" **Did they teach you to make long shots in detective school, or is this a talent of your own?"**

Elsa's apartment was filled with the clicking of computer keys as the light faded.

* * *

 _Anna was feeling restless, every muscle unable to lie still._

" _Knock, knock." Hiccup limped into the room, a crutch under one arm. "I shouldn't be using this," he said, nodding at it, "but I was hoping you wouldn't tell."_

 _She grinned. "Your secret's safe with me." Anna pulled herself up on her elbows, arranging her legs to the side, making room for him on her bed. He plopped down with a quick 'thanks', unbuckling the prosthetic leg._

" _How'd you find me?"_

" _I asked my therapist."_

" _Is he even allowed to disclose that kind of info?"_

 _He shrugged a shoulder. "Once_ she _ascertained I wasn't going to harm you in any way – not that threatening with only one leg, y'know – she was fine with it."_

" _You still have a functioning leg, which is one more than me." The joke came out more bitter than she had intended._

 _Hiccup's expression softened. "For what it's worth, I hear you're doing awesome in PT."_

 _Anna stared at him. "Really? Is that how you change the subject? Smooth."_

" _Hey, I'm trying to be comforting. Cut a guy some slack."_

 _She snorted. "Yes, that was grade A comforting. I feel so much better already." Despite the dryness of her tone, Anna punched Hiccup's shoulder lightly. He winced._

" _Please don't use your awesome therapy strength on me. I don't think I can handle further damage."_

 _Punching him clearly wasn't going to get any serious answer, so Anna reached for the nearest thing and chucked it at his head. The plush snowman bounced off Hiccup's head – drawing a startled yelp – and landed in his lap._

" _Oh, nice," he said. "I've got a plush dragon myself. His name's Toothless because he's – well – toothless."_

" _Then we have similar taste in names because that's Carrot-Nose." Anna tugged on the snowman's nose._

* * *

Anna hated grocery shopping. Not because she couldn't afford the things she wanted – although her stipend was fixed, she was certain Olaf was pulling strings to slip her money, possibly even out of his own pocket. To her, grocery shopping was something incredibly domestic and intimate. Not bending your partner over the cabbages intimate – which was technically impossible for her anyway – but the buying favourite chocolates when the other person isn't looking intimate. Of planning a quiet night in with movies and snacks. Choosing food to cook dinner with.

She was a huge romantic at heart, and it showed.

Her ex-girlfriend didn't really cook, preferring to eat out. Anna had tried to get her into the shopping habit, but all she had done was buy snacks, and urge them to hurry up and pay so they could be doing other things – herself often included.

Anna wasn't exactly averse to that, but food was sacred, and the supermarket was her shrine.

So early on a Sunday morning, she knocked on Elsa's door and waited, beaming from ear to ear.

"Anna? Is something wrong?" Elsa looked less than polished, in rumpled shirt and sweatpants, her hair a mess.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go grocery shopping with me."

Elsa stared. "… Grocery shopping."

"Yep."

"Now? It's – " Elsa checked her watch, "9am."

"We can have brunch first," said Anna happily, "otherwise we'd buy way too much food."

The blonde considered it for a moment. "Alright. Would you mind waiting while I get ready?"

"Not at all!" chirped Anna. "I mean, I'm sorry for disturbing your Sunday morning but I opened the fridge this morning and realized there was nothing there but a moldy piece of cheese even a starving college student like myself wouldn't touch, so…" She seemed to rein herself in and then continued in a more measured pace, "I don't really like shopping alone and I thought that maybe you'd like to come with me."

Elsa had hovered in the door until Anna finished her ramble, looking uncertain.

"Oh – you didn't need my life story. Sorry."

"No, it's fine." The blonde smiled and turned, completely missing the furious blush that started on Anna's face.

* * *

Elsa still wasn't sure what made her accept that surprise invitation – Anna always seems to catch her off-guard – but she liked it. There's something calming about listening to Anna prattle like the happy young woman she grew up to be; calming, even, in the face of that horrible feeling she still gets in the pit of her stomach when she's with Anna.

She can do this. Spending time with Anna doesn't have to be painful or a chore because it certainly isn't. She can act normally around the girl.

Elsa doesn't need to give Anna another reason to hate her.

* * *

Anna chattered nonstop throughout the ride to the supermarket. "We have to get a cart," she told Elsa, tugging on the blonde's shirt.

"A cart? We aren't going to buy that much food," she responded, declining to comment on Anna's chosen method of getting her attention.

"But it's the principle of the thing! You have to get a cart when you go grocery shopping."

Elsa squinted at her. "… Let me guess, you were the kid who always rode in the cart."

"Even after I was too big to go in the little seat," confirmed Anna happily. "Here, you push; I've got my own set of wheels to handle."

The blonde laughingly conceded, and they started off in the fresh produce section. "Hey Elsa?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you got any dinner plans for tonight?"

Before Anna had knocked on her door, Elsa's plans for the day had consisted of staying put at her desk and finishing her chapter, sustaining on coffee and assorted snacks from her pantry, with a quick run to her takeout place at night if she was hungry. "Not really," replied the blonde.

Anna literally bounced in her seat. "Great! In that case, I'll cook."

"You cook?"

"Of course I cook! I'll have you know I'm a pretty good cook too." The redhead was already studying broccoli with a connoisseur's eye. "What are your favourite foods? Greasy Chinese takeout totally doesn't count."

"Har har." Elsa picked up a head of broccoli and put it in the trolley. "I like broccoli, then. Actually, I like pretty much anything."

"What do you think of… grilled fish. Salmon," said Anna, taking two fillets from the fishmonger, "with lime butter, and veggie stir-fry on the side."

"That sounds surprisingly healthy."

"Not every college student subsists on instant ramen and pizza." Anna was whizzing through the store; it took all of Elsa's energy just to keep up with her. "And chocolate cake for dessert."

"Aha. Knew you weren't perfect."

"Nobody says no to chocolate, Elsa; it's a fact of life." She tossed bags of chocolate chip cookies into the trolley with a carelessness that made Elsa swat at her, scolding her for spoiling them. "You know, I once told Kristoff that girls needed to eat chocolate three times a day or they'd die. He believed me."

"You're terrible." Elsa put a few bars of dark chocolate in and got a thumbs-up from Anna.

* * *

To say that Anna's thrilled is an understatement. From being closed-off and just a little – _cold_ , Elsa is smiling more, even making jokes. Their conversation is so much better now that Anna isn't filling the awkward gaps with embarrassed rambling.

She actually sounds witty and bright, all references to cheesy musicals intended. Anna will fight anyone who disparages _Rent_ despite not having a leg to stand on.

Elsa isn't just some unexpectedly kind person who feels obliged to be extra nice to the handicapped girl. She's a genuine person who loves chocolate and thinks her lame jokes are funny.

* * *

Despite Elsa's control over the cart, Anna had managed to spend much more than she'd budgeted for, and the car ride home was filled with half-hearted bickering over it.

"Okay, so why'd you buy five packs of Kit Kat again?"

"That is a non-negotiable item, on account of it being chocolate."

"Fine. But the Marshmallow Peeps."

"… They were on sale," whined Anna.

"Sale items aside, there's no way a single human being can consume that much sugar and still function."

"Watch me."

* * *

"Just set the stuff down over there," said Anna, pointing to the floor beside the kitchen table. "I need you to help me unpack it on the kitchen counter."

"Alright." It was the first time Elsa had set foot in Anna's apartment since the first day she helped the redhead move in (not counting the sink emergency because the pervasive memory of shucking her shirt made Elsa blush); it looked a lot more homey and comfortable. All of the standard furnishings had been replaced with wheelchair-friendly fittings; raised spaces for greater foot clearance, recessed knee areas, low shelving.

The combination of practical accessibility with design appealed to Elsa's professional senses, and she found herself mulling over new ways she could work with the aesthetic –

"Hey, earth to Elsa!" Anna couldn't get her hand up to Elsa's eye level, so she settled for tugging at the blonde's shirt.

"You look like a toddler when you do that," Elsa remarked, smiling as the redhead stuck her tongue out at her.

"Well, you were completely spacing out, so I had to get your attention any way I can… Oh, you haven't seen my place yet, right? Totally forgot to invite you over. Olaf was a real sweetheart, he said the cost of remodelling the place for me would be completely sponsored by the foundation, so it wouldn't come out of my stipend and we wouldn't need to take out loans. Something about providing the best opportunities." Anna had finished putting away the groceries while she spoke; she started rolling through the house, pointing out features she thought Elsa would be interested in, completely missing the guilty look that flashed over the blonde's face.

"Most of it is just normal stuff, really," said the redhead, "shorter shelves, more room for my chair. It's an apartment, so there's no need for ramps and lifts, thankfully – being the klutz I am, I would probably get stuck."

Elsa raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I have two wheelchairs!" She pulled a bulkier electric one out of a closet, proudly showing it off. "This one's got a motor, for when I feel like running pedestrians over. It's heavy, though, so I don't often use it."

"Charming," said Elsa. "The reckless driving aspect especially."

"The bathroom is special. I've got handrails here, for getting on and off the toilet bowl, and a shower chair. The builders also enlarged the shower space so I can get in and out in one piece despite my klutziness." She blushed, and added, "I won't go into further details."

"And this," said Anna with a flourish, "is my bedroom, where I spend most of my time like a sulky teenager."

It was very Anna-ish. The walls were painted soft green – what little of the walls she could see, at any rate. Pictures, photographs, prints, posters, and other assorted items cluttered the space. There was a large desk that took up half the room, with two large monitors.

"Wow," said Elsa, "that looks really professional."

"It's for school, mostly." Anna wheeled over to the desk, fired the computers up. "I take my works to school in my laptop or tablet, but when it comes to the actual drawing, I use these or the school's software." She pulled out a drawing tablet from underneath.

"You never said what you were majoring in specifically." It was a half-truth, but Elsa wanted to confirm what was written in Olaf's reports.

"Graphic design, with a minor in illustration." Anna's fingers flew over her keyboard. "I make pictures good."

"Can I see some of your work?"

Anna actually stuttered, turning a crimson that matched her hair, her fingers tripping over the keys. "I, uh, sure but I have to tell you it's not very good." She opened up a file and waited, chin jutting defiantly.

Elsa was silent for a few heartbeats.

"… I know it's pretty bad; this was a really, really old piece I did in high school, and I haven't gotten round to actually refining it yet – "

" – Anna, it's beautiful." Elsa's fingers traced the outlines of the digital painting.

"It is?"

"Yes."

The colour of Anna's face lightened to a pink flush. If Elsa let herself admit it, she was really quite pretty. "Well," said Anna after a long pause, "I suppose it isn't _that_ bad."

Elsa smiled at her.

* * *

"Okay, difficult question time: how good are you in the kitchen?"

Elsa looked between the pile of groceries on the counter, the assorted pots and pans, and Anna's expectant face. "Um – I can manage."

The redhead hummed thoughtfully. "Veggie chopping duty then," she said, pointing at the cutting board. "Make them all bite-size chunks, please."

"Alright." She started slowly, meandering her way through partially so she wouldn't lose a finger, and mostly because the kitchen counter was set at Anna's level. It took some time to find a comfortable work angle.

As she worked, Elsa stole glances at the other girl as she whizzed through the kitchen; it was difficult to believe Anna was confined to a wheelchair. One moment she was checking on the salmon fillets in the pan, the next she was complimenting Elsa on the uniformity of her carrot chunks ("You'd be surprised how important it is in good cooking, Elsa"), and then she was tasting the sauce and proclaiming it satisfactory.

"Where did you learn to do all that?" asked Elsa breathlessly as she finished chopping the last of the vegetables only for Anna to whisk them away and rinse them in the sink.

"I helped Ma in the kitchen – not by choice, initially. She said if I wanted to eat, I should help prepare the food. Turns out, I really liked it." As she talked, Anna expertly tossed the stir-fry, adding a splash of soy sauce. "Saves me a fortune in takeout too." Snapping off the heat, she asked Elsa to get the plates out of the cupboard while she took everything to the dining table.

Elsa took a bite of the food and chewed. She looked up – to find Anna grinning at her. "This is really good, Anna," she said.

"Thanks."

* * *

"You broke our dinner date," complained Kristoff. Anna nudged him in the ribs.

"There'll be plenty more, you big baby. I don't know who'd date you when you smell like what the dog dragged in."

"Harsh."

"Also, it wasn't a date. We were supposed to meet Punzie and Eugene and get raging drunk."

"Still a date, and you bailed on us." He continued sorting the books on the cart. "You must have a really, really good reason for ditching."

"I convinced Elsa to go grocery shopping with me," said Anna smugly, "and she loved it."

"Grocery shopping? With you? And she loved it, you say? You're sure you weren't hallucinating, and that she actually ran away screaming?"

"Real funny. I cooked for her as well, if you must know."

Kristoff clapped his hands to his face in an expression of mock-horror. "Will wonders never cease! You cooked for her without burning the place down!"

"That was one time, and you are seriously angling for a beating, Kristoff." She attempted to punch him; the young man darted out of reach. "Come back here and take your punishment like a man!"

"We're still in the library, if you haven't yet noticed, and we're supposed to be working."

Anna relented. "Fine. I'll beat you up later."

"You can try." His expression grew serious. "You like her, don't you?"

She dropped the books she was carrying – he grunted when a particularly thick hardcover landed on his foot. "Kristoff!" squeaked Anna, mortified.

"I – no! Not in that sense, god – unless…"

She was turning redder.

"Anna, be careful, okay?" It wasn't a good time to say anything, he knew that; it was Elsa's story to tell. But if she was going to lead Anna on… "I don't want you getting into anything too quickly."

"It won't be like that time with _her_ ," hissed Anna, "and it's really too soon for anything at all. It's none of your business anyway, but we just – she just only started being _friends_ with me, and I'm taking things as they come, okay? I have school and work and – I don't have time for this." She had been running out of steam throughout, and the last six words came soft and vulnerable.

Kristoff bent down, pulling her into a one-armed hug – the other still balancing a pile of books. "I know. Sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Apology accepted, you big buffoon," said Anna in a muffled voice.

"Now you can consider us even for missing our dinner date."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** So I've just realised I haven't done a proper author's notes for this story.

To answer everyone's favourite asked and unasked question on this website, ATYA will be updated roughly every month. I did mention that the plot has already been sketched out and written, along with the bulk of the dialogue, but my writing process means that chapters still need to be refined. Basically, I break stuff into chapter-sized pieces. A _lot_ of editing, writing, and rewriting goes on in this stage since I wrote everything feverishly (NaNoWriMo, yo) and it's nowhere near good enough to post.

There's also a lot to research. If you've read my other works, you'll know I am a stickler for accuracy (but also equally prone to bending said accuracy to my will when needed). After I'm done with the chapter, my excellent beta **mach5goh** checks the wheelchair parts to make sure I'm not making any glaring mistakes.

And after she's done with the chapter, I do a final round of editing. In short, it's a long process (wow, see what I did there).

Oh, look, I've written an essay in what was supposed to be the notes.

Finally, reviews. I don't usually respond to each and every review/question, but they are all very much appreciated. Thanks to everyone for reading and liking this story, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.

I can be found on Tumblr and AO3 under the same name (through a quick Google search, since FF doesn't allow outside links).

* * *

The thawing snow was met with excitement, initially, on Anna's part.

She found she could do with one less sweater, and that everything glimmered with melting snow. For the first time in months she could go out without layering herself in clothes, the figurative icing on a grumpy cake. She could start to enjoy the warmth of the sun on as much skin as possible, after what felt like an eternity.

It hit her, as she was brewing Elsa's coffee, that there wasn't a need for her neighbor to drive her to school anymore, and it bothered her more than she had expected.

She would miss it, all of the little things; the luxury of private transport, fiddling with the radio, not having to wake up any earlier than absolutely necessary. Most of all, she would lose her time with Elsa – not that the blonde woman was being as aloof as she had been initially. But she was still reticent and shy. Anna got the feeling that it would be harder to coax Elsa out of her shell if there wasn't a legitimate reason for her company – apart, of course, the simple enjoyment of her company. She pouted. Trust her to want to befriend the shyest person on the planet.

Anna reached for a piece of chocolate from her stash. This was an emergency that necessitated serious brain power, and thus sugar. She popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly, brow furrowed in concentration.

* * *

"How are you this week, Elsa?"

Elsa chewed on her lower lip. "Good, I suppose. Compared to usually."

"What do you mean by usually?"

"My usual routine." Her fingers twisted together in her lap. "I go to work. I do my exercises when I need to. I write." Elsa left out the copious amount of takeout she consumed, feeling like a guilty schoolgirl.

"Do you keep in touch with your friends?"

"Not keeping in touch with friends from school per se… I met a guy. We've gone out a few times."

Gerda nodded. Her expression remained unchanged. "A few times? Do you enjoy spending time with him?"

"It's – not unpleasant," said Elsa carefully, and then blushed. "I didn't mean to say that. It's nice. Hans is funny and interesting to talk to. I guess – yes, I do like spending time with him." The word _friend_ lingered on the tip of her tongue; it felt strange to use it, so she didn't.

The therapist hid a smile. "I'm not insinuating anything."

"I – yes, I know." Sometimes, Elsa hated that she was so fair. Her blush was annoyingly noticeable.

"Apart from Hans, is there anyone you talk to?"

"There's An – my neighbor." There followed a lengthy pause. " _That_ neighbor."

"Ah," said Gerda, nodding understandingly, "the one we discussed."

"Yes."

"So you talk to her regularly?"

Elsa nodded. "You could say that. We've spent quite a bit of time together – I've been driving her to school this winter because it's too cold for her to be outside. We've had dinner a couple of times." Elsa's eyes darted up and away.

"Oh? That sounds nice."

Elsa considered it. "… Yeah, it is," she admitted, darting a shy glance at Gerda. The therapist smiled at the brief eye contact.

"Do you talk a lot?"

"Not as much as with Hans."

"That's perfectly fine, Elsa," said the therapist reassuringly. "Sometimes just spending time with a person is enough. From what I've heard of your neighbor, I get the feeling she's the talkative type."

The younger woman smiled. "She is."

"You seem like you don't find it uncomfortable," observed Gerda.

"… I don't. Strange as it feels. I just… Anna always looks so happy when she's talking about something, and then it turns into a monologue. I – I don't really feel like I can get a word in, and I don't want to. It's… _nice,_ listening to her talk when she gets excited about the subject." Elsa couldn't help the fond smile that blossomed at the memory. "I don't feel pressured to listen and join in."

"Do you enjoy spending time with her, then?"

"I guess so. Yes."

"You look happy," said the therapist, and Elsa dropped her gaze shyly. "Is it different from spending time with Hans?"

"In a way."

"Do you mind elaborating?"

Surprisingly, Elsa didn't. She felt more comfortable talking about them like this in the abstract, without having to deal with the uncomfortable feelings that Anna usually evoked. "N-not really. With Hans, he – the conversation's more equal. He waits for me to say things, to respond. But it's the same – as in, I don't feel pressured either. Same and different, if that makes sense. I already told you how it's like with Anna."

"But you enjoy both dynamics."

"Both are interesting in their own ways, because it's two different people," answered Elsa.

"Is it a stretch to say you interact with them differently as a result?"

"I'm not really myself with Anna," confessed Elsa. "I – you know – have to be careful with what I say to her. Hans doesn't really know me, so I don't have to be as guarded."

"I understand. I only want to know what you're feeling."

She nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. Gerda seemed to sense her thoughts and changed the subject. "We can always return to the topic later."

"Okay."

"I'd just like to say that I think that it's good you're spending time with Hans and – your neighbor. You're smiling more."

Completely caught off-guard, Elsa nodded, even managing a small smile.

* * *

They spent the rest of the session making small talk, and Elsa was glad to be done for the week. She got into her car and checked the time; she had only taken the morning off but she didn't need to rush back to the office. As much as she tried not to, Elsa's thoughts kept going back to Anna. Even if they barely talked during the car rides, the nervousness she felt was beginning to ebb away, replaced with –

– well, she wasn't quite sure how to describe it, the feeling being only noticeable in its absence.

She tried organizing her thoughts. Her anxiety meant that things and emotions were likely to spiral out of control if she didn't limit them to solid facts.

Fact: Anna wasn't just her neighbor.

They were friends, or as much as a few meals together and carpooling entailed. If she wanted to be absolutely clinical, there were genuine moments of bonding as well.

Fact: Anna doesn't know the truth about her.

Definitely not, judging from the way the redhead treated her like everything was normal, and Elsa was worth becoming friends with. Elsa clamped down hard on the wave of guilt rising.

Fact: She enjoyed spending time with Anna.

If Elsa pushed aside all the hopelessly jumbled feelings that arose from the accident, she could honestly say that Anna was smart, funny, and unbearably nice. She was outgoing but not pushy. She seemed to sense the walls Elsa had built around herself, and accepted them. Elsa even found Anna's tendency to ramble charming, which she supposed was a good thing.

Her ringing phone brought her out of her thoughts. "Hello?"

"Hello, Elsa. Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yes, what is it, Olaf?"

"It's been a month since Miss Iversen moved in."

It took her a few moments to remember why that was significant. "O-oh. Right."

"Have you made a decision yet?" he asked gently.

Elsa chewed on her bottom lip, hands suddenly cold and clammy. "… I have. I've – I'll stay."

"… Alright then."

The young woman was left staring dumbly at her phone long after Olaf had said his goodbyes and ended the call. Her mind was still reeling.

Fact: She doesn't want to distance herself from Anna.

This was an annoying, yet inevitable conclusion, given her tendency to make irrational decisions to spend more time around her. Elsa sighed and turned the key in the ignition, beginning the drive back to her office.

* * *

Kristoff, being a typical college student, had his fair share of typical college student problems. He was having trouble keeping up with his advanced calculus class. He couldn't get the cute girl who lived across his quad to notice him. He was barely staying afloat funds-wise, and his fridge was emptier than he'd like it to be.

And then there were the less typical problems.

He was sorta-but-not-really responsible for his wheelchair-bound younger sister (though he knew Anna would kill him if she ever knew). And the person responsible for the accident that put her there was the young woman who lived opposite her – also the same young woman his sister was attempting to befriend. Naturally, Anna would kill him if she knew he was not only aware of the connection, but that he was also actively keeping his knowledge from her.

He groaned softly, feeling a major headache coming on. The situation required more maturity than he was willing to reveal he possessed.

He knew Elsa. He'd been there when his parents and her father had talked about the adoption arrangements. He was vaguely aware that Elsa continued to support Anna (secretly) with a monthly check that made life a bit easier for her; his parents did their best, but many handicapable improvements came with a hefty price tag.

Kristoff knew that Elsa wasn't really a bad person, just a scared young woman who had made the biggest mistake of her life and was prepared to spend the rest of it making amends, even if he wasn't personally sure about the means she went about it. Though it wasn't really his place, Kristoff was also concerned about Anna's interest in pursuing a friendship with Elsa, for the reasons previously laid out.

The tattered paperback fell from his slack grip and Kristoff remembered he was supposed to be reading. Scanning the paragraph, he realized he had read it twice and it hadn't yet sank in, so he called it a day. The book went back into his bag.

Kristoff was really hoping he didn't have to pull the overprotective-big-brother card and confront Elsa. She was okay, he supposed – unless she was going to string Anna along, intentionally or otherwise.

The young man really, really hoped things wouldn't reach that stage.

* * *

 _The last time Anna and Olaf had talked, the conversation hadn't gone very well. Anna had the good grace to look embarrassed when the social worker walked in._

" _Hi."_

 _He beamed at her. "Hello, Anna."_

" _I, uh…" She twisted the sheets covering her legs. "I wanted to apologise for what I said the other day."_

" _Apology accepted," he said very seriously, "but only on the condition that you accept mine as well."_

" _Fine, but I don't really see why. You're only doing your job – annoying as it can be sometimes." The last part was said under her breath, but Anna had the sneaking suspicion Olaf heard it anyway._

 _He reached into his satchel and pulled out a pile of papers. "I'm afraid my visit today is horribly boring; some paperwork to fill in for the private tutor. The state needs to make sure you fulfill their educational requirements, and you might need to sit for the state exams as a private candidate if you want to go to college – "_

" _Olaf?"_

" _Yes, Anna?"_

" _What if – is it too late for me to change my mind?" She was looking everywhere but directly at him, and Carrot-Nose was now in her hands, being twisted out of shape._

" _That depends on what you have in mind," he said gently._

" _I'd like to go back to school. Not my old one. Just – somewhere I can start over." Anna couldn't bear the thought of returning to a place where everyone remembered the athletic girl and felt sorry for the one in the wheelchair. "It's already – I'm different enough as it is."_

" _I understand." Olaf's quiet voice cut through the rambling explanation in her mind. He put the papers away. "I'll talk to your benefactor, and then if they agree, we can look for schools together?"_

 _Anna nodded, mumbling her thanks._

* * *

"You finally showed up!" said Eugene happily. Rapunzel smacked the back of his head and he grunted in pain. "Ow! And what was that for?"

"If you still need me to explain it by now…"

Anna hugged them both in turn. "Hey, guys. It's good to see you. Sorry I've been busy."

"Don't be. We know how it gets." Rapunzel shot a filthy look at Eugene from over Anna's shoulder. "Don't we, Eugene?"

There was a moment as they locked eyes over Anna's shoulder. Eugene looked away first. "Yeah, yeah, whatever Blondie." But he was smiling as he took a sip of his beer. Rapunzel rolled her eyes at him. "Or at least, if you actually attended your classes."

"I have better things to do with my time."

"Like petty theft."

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Blondie, you wound me! I've done my time in juvie, thank you very much, and am currently an upstanding model citizen."

She giggled. "If you put as much effort into school as you do in protesting your innocence, you'd be valedictorian." But Rapunzel leaned over the table to ruffle his hair affectionately, addressing Anna and Kristoff: "By the way, I've got big news for you guys."

Kristoff almost choked on his cider. "You're not eloping, are you?"

"No! Well, I'm sure Mother will grow to like Eugene one day, but – that's not my news." Rapunzel grinned at Anna as Eugene spluttered in the background. "Guess whose transfer got approved."

A beat. Anna gaped at her. "No way."

"Yes way! I'm starting at Arendelle U next week."

"That's wonderful! Now come over here, Punzie, so I can hug you properly," demanded Anna.

Kristoff joined in the hug. "Wow. Congrats. Now we can have two arts majors geeking out about their classes."

"I do not geek out!"

"I hate to break the bad news to you, but…"

Anna made a scandalized sound. "I hate you."

"Mmhmm. So you say."

* * *

 _She had called Phil out on his behavior – there were several choice words she had in mind but wasn't allowed to use – and as a result, physical sessions were easier._

 _Well, the man was still abrasive. He still belittled her efforts. He constantly insisted that various members of his family of advanced age could outperform her in their sleep. But Anna had learned to tune him out and focus on what really mattered; reclaiming her body. The stronger she grew, the more confident she was controlling her wheelchair._

 _The realities of her new life took some adjusting to. There were medication regimes; some that were for the duration of her hospital stay, and others she struggled with accepting they were going to be a permanent part of her life._

 _There were new things she had never thought of, but were now a major concern; pressure ulcers, for one. For the moment she was lucky to be splitting her time evenly between her bed and her chair, but she had been warned that she had to be careful when spending a lot more time in one place._

 _Phil's sessions were only for rebuilding her strength. There were classes where Anna learned how to live with a wheelchair. She had to learn how to get in and out of cars – things she had taken for granted. She learned about the things she could and couldn't do with and in a wheelchair._

" _At least you get to sit down the entire time, and your legs are still there," Hiccup grumbled when she told him about her classes. "My real foot aches all the time, and let's not mention my fake foot. Ever heard of phantom limb pain?"_

 _Anna hadn't, and winced appropriately when he'd explained. "It's alright, really, all things considered," he added. "I still get to go out and do stuff. That makes it all worth it."_

 _"I honestly don't see how I'm much better off than you. I'll always be shorter than 95% of the general population, and these are just for show," she said, patting her thighs._

 _Hiccup snorted. He had become a regular fixture in Anna's room, his plush dragon often in tow. Currently, they were both sprawled over Anna's bed, her legs carefully arranged on a pillow."I'm a good boy, I finish my homework before I go out," he had said, in response to her teasing digs at his womanizing ways._

" _Yes, but what about my homework?"_

 _He glanced carelessly at the papers strewn over her bed. "Not my fault you procrastinate. Otherwise you could be out socializing with people your height."_

 _Anna barked a scandalized laugh, picking up Toothless and tossing it at him._

" _I can't help but notice you resort to throwing things when you lose an argument," remarked Hiccup, quirking an eyebrow. "It's like reverting to some primal instinct."_

" _I'll show you primal instinct, you goober." She dragged herself across the bed, managing to tangle her fingers in his hair and rubbing her knuckles into his scalp while he yelped in outrage._

 _Anna didn't bring up the fact he'd waited for her to catch him._

* * *

Anna really, really should have been working. She had several idea proposals that needed to be submitted to the client by the end of the week, and she was precisely…

… zero percent complete.

She blew a gusty sigh, sinking her chin into one hand. The blank canvas stared mockingly back at her. Her head ached dully, a souvenir from last night's drunken revelry.

Well, Eugene and Kristoff had been doing most of the drinking. Rapunzel had been distracted by the karaoke machine in the corner of the bar and was single-handedly responsible for the revelry. Anna herself had only downed a few ciders before calling it a night but had to wait for Rapunzel to collar the boys and drive them all home.

It, however, didn't help her idea generation in the slightest. While it wasn't uncommon to be out of ideas, she had had three weeks to work on them. But she hadn't had a single flash of inspiration come to her over those three weeks.

Well, she wouldn't be in such a pickle if she hadn't spent so much time mooning over Elsa.

A flush came to Anna's cheeks. She _really_ hadn't meant to blurt that out to _Kristoff_ , of all people.

Even if it wasn't completely true.

She had enough going on in her life at the moment, and at this particular point in time, the company of the reticent blonde was enough for her. Anna didn't want to jeopardize it in any way. Elsa reminded her of a skittish woodland animal; easily spooked, and liable to flee. A friendship was the end goal, of course – and if there were other possible outcomes, Anna wasn't ruling them out. She was using the phrase _possible outcomes_ in the loosest sense of the words. One of the worst things she could do (and had done, many times before) was falling for a straight woman because nothing hurt quite as much as unrequited feelings.

No – scratch unrequited feelings. There was _no such thing_ happening. Yet.

Her jaunt into dangerous territory gave her an idea, though. She was supposed to be designing covers for the client's novels, wasn't she? The publisher had been nice enough to give her a set of the older editions as a little bonus. Anna decided to flip to a random page, read a few paragraphs, and see if that got her anywhere.

* * *

Elsa had always been hyper-sensitive around Anna, careful not to give herself away. It extended to watching Anna's mood, so it was impossible not to notice how sullen the redhead was being as she tucked herself into the car seat.

The blonde grew more worried when she started the drive out of the carpark and Anna didn't move to adjust the radio as she usually did.

"It's gonna be spring soon," said Anna into the silence.

"Yes."

"You won't need to drive me to school once the roads clear," she said with a laugh. It came out rather forced. "Well, it wasn't a permanent thing anyway."

And now Elsa was torn. It would be so easy to offer to continue driving Anna. After all, they were friends now – as much as time spent together meant – and it was something friends would do. It certainly felt like Anna was waiting for her to offer, because it would be too impolite of her to ask. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as the internal battle raged.

After the pause had stretched for too long, Anna added: "But I guess I shouldn't keep imposing on you. The bus is good enough, they've got the ramp for my chair and everything." She grinned at Elsa.

Curse the lump in her throat. It was nearly impossible to get any sound out around it.

"We can still meet up once in a while to have dinner, right? Or I could cook. That is, if you didn't mind my cooking the last time." This was followed by a self-deprecating laugh that made Elsa squirm in her seat.

"Anna – "

"Hmmm?"

Deep breath. Remember how to talk. "I, um, didn't mind driving you."

"Oh."

"It's no trouble for me at all if we, ah, continue this arrangement. That is, if you, um, don't mind hitching a ride with me, that is." Elsa could have sworn she was more eloquent than an average toddler. "I mean – I'm going to miss your coffee."

Anna was staring at her, and it was a good thing they had stopped for a red light, because it was hard to concentrate under the younger girl's scrutiny. "T-thanks," she stammered. "I'd be happy to make you coffee anytime you want, really."

"O-oh?" It was almost funny, really, how Anna's deliberately casual speech had devolved into verbal fumbling as bad as Elsa's, but the blonde was in no mood to laugh. "That's – it's nice."

"Yeah, totally." Then Anna was beaming, the tension sloughing from her shoulders, practically vibrating in excitement in the car seat. "You're the best, Elsa, honestly! You've got to let me treat you to dinner or something or – what's your favourite food? I could cook it, and I swear I'll do it justice, not like those dumb romance movies where the girl screws up the guy's favourite food or something…"

Elsa snapped back to the real world when the light changed to green, and thankfully she just needed to pull into the driveway of the art building because she was having a hard time keeping her heart from beating out of her chest. The awkward atmosphere had dissipated like it had never been there in the first place. The blonde couldn't help but crack a small smile when faced with Anna's joy.

"No, wait, I'm confused." Anna furrowed her brow. "Did we agree that you're still driving me to school, or coffee dates?" A furious blush followed the last word, but she didn't say anything further.

"Driving," said Elsa firmly.

"Okay. Thanks for doing this."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

 _Now that Anna was halfway through her rehabilitation program, she was given more freedom to move around the hospital. Part of the reason was to let her practice maneuvering with her chair, but mostly it was because she had informed Olaf that she would not be held responsible for battering Phil to death with her dumbbells if she had to put herself through his insane motivational techniques any more than strictly necessary._

 _Her upper arm strength, already prodigious before the accident, was truly impressive now. She often raced Hiccup on his running prosthetic through the corridors, making a menace of themselves._

 _Anna rounded a corner on two wheels – a feat that made Hiccup swear under his breath – and hit the brakes, skidding to a neat stop. She held her breath as the chair teetered dangerously, grinning as it remained upright. "I win – again," she said breathlessly as he came into view._

" _Four wheels," he grumbled. "One leg and a half," Hiccup added, pointing down at himself._

" _You can hop over obstacles," she pointed out. "I have to maneuver fast or else leave a trail of roadkill."_

" _That'll be a good skill during lunchtime."_

 _Anna snickered. "Why do you think we're practicing now? If I'm gonna be the girl in a wheelchair, I'm damn well going to be the badass girl in the wheelchair. Look out, high school."_

" _Fair enough. I need a cool nickname though, Blade Runner's already taken."_

 _"Is Long John Silver too lame?"_

 _"Definitely too lame."_

 _"Not if you Velcroed Toothless to your shoulder. Quirky but still cool."_

 _"... Are you_ sure _you want to go to high school? You'd be the bottom of the food chain, you dork."_

* * *

A week passed without incident. Apart from their morning car rides, Elsa actually saw very little of Anna without actively avoiding her. She was home at varying times of day (depending on how much of a pain her colleagues and/or clients were being) but the lights in Anna's apartment were off every time she passed by. She should have been relieved, but instead she found herself growing uneasy. At the very least their paths would have crossed once or twice. Anna didn't look like the sort to be attending wild student parties.

At times like this, Elsa really hated the fact that she wrote crime novels because her brain wouldn't stop coming up with creative and criminally-inclined scenarios.

 _Get a grip on yourself,_ she thought. _It's bad enough that you have enough anxiety issues of your own to be dealing with, let alone someone else's._

Elsa was supposed to be meeting Hans for dinner later, and had stopped at home to shower and change first. She checked her phone and was surprised to find there was a new text message from Anna; she couldn't remember when she had recorded her number, but opened the message anyway.

 **hi elsa anna here** **was just wondering if ur home?**

As a matter of fact, she was – having no life outside of work did that to one's schedule. Elsa's fingers hovered over the phone keyboard. She'd already made one snap decision. She might as well make another.

 _Yes, I am. Why?_

 **tell u irl. wanna come over? doors not locked. it wont be long srry**

"Sorry to make you drop by on short notice," said Anna sheepishly after Elsa knocked and let herself in. "I have a really, really big favour to ask of you, and – okay, I'm lazy to type on the phone."

"I see," said Elsa.

Anna waved a letter at the blonde – being almost two feet shorter than Elsa, the edge of the paper almost caught Elsa's chin in what would have been a nasty paper cut if she hadn't jerked her face away. "Look!"

"Calm down and let me see." She recognized the elegant letterhead as belonging to Anna's college.

"I got in!" squealed Anna, interrupting her reading.

"The Arendelle University Art showcase?" asked Elsa, scanning the text quickly and confirming the fact.

"Only the fanciest student art show in town!" Anna's enthusiasm was infectious, and Elsa found herself smiling as the redhead started to circle her, talking at top speed. "It's this thing where students get to display their best pieces. Usually only senior students get invited to participate, but the dean liked the stuff I've been doing so – " She cut herself off with a delighted shriek.

Elsa smiled. "Really? That's amazing, Anna; congratulations."

"I can't believe this is happening!" Anna paused, excitement morphing into shock; she clapped both hands to her face. "I can't believe this is happening. This is a dream, isn't it? There's a chocolate fountain and eternal marshmallows, and any second now I'm going to wake up." Anna began pinching herself vigorously.

"This letter feels real enough," said Elsa.

"You could be a figment of my imagination right now!"

Elsa shook her head fondly. "Would you like me to pinch you?"

"Yes please, dream Elsa, my pinches aren't working for some reason. Ow! Not so hard! Okay, I'm not waking up, this is really happening."

The blonde bent over, placing her hands on Anna's shoulders. "It's really happening. Congratulations, Anna, you did a great job."

Anna's grin widened a fraction. "Actually, that's not all I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I can bring guests, so… I was wondering if you'd like to come? I understand if you'll be busy, but I'd love it if you'd come. You've dropped me off at school so many times already, I should at least show you around the place? Give you the grand tour, if you want. You could see the other artworks – not mine, I think I'd die of embarrassment, I'm sure they're horrid – "

"Anna, you're rambling again," said Elsa, "and yes, I'd love to come."

Anna's mouth, half-open as she stopped mid-sentence, snapped shut again, and she flushed pink with delight. "I – um. Okay, that's really great!"

"It's on the last Saturday of next month, if I'm not wrong," said Elsa, recalling the letter's contents. Anna nodded.

"I'll text you the details closer to the date, 'kay?"

"That sounds fine." She checked her watch. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, but I have to go."

"Oh. Sure thing." Anna saw her to the front door, wheeling herself with long, languid strokes. "Dinner date?"

Elsa found herself blushing. "Just dinner with a friend." She wondered why she felt the need to emphasize the fact.

Anna's smile never faltered. "Oh, sure. Have fun!"

* * *

Anna was early for study class, uncharacteristically so. She found her usual spot by the window, taking her supplies out from her bag. Canvases had already been set up on their easels for the students, Anna's set comfortably low to accommodate her chair. Her professor came a few minutes after, arching an eyebrow when she saw there was a student in the room already.

"You're early today, Anna," she said in crisp British-accented tones.

Anna looked up from her book. "Oh, hi Jane."

"Reading a book too? An actual physical copy? Such a relief to know the old ways persist."

The redhead grinned. "Just because you never learned to use a smartphone…"

"Oh, posh, make fun of a relic, would you? I'd have you know that you're talking with a professor and your grade is at stake." She was smiling, though. "We won't wait too long, there's a few things I have for you lot today, and time is tight as it is." Jane nodded at the stack of canvases to the side.

"… That sounds bad."

Jane chuckled. "Bad? Nothing of that sort. Bad would be going out to sketch in the jungle and then finding yourself pursued by a horde of baboons."

Anna blinked.

"Anyway, a little birdie told me you were invited to display at the Showcase?"

"Oh, yeah. It's a big deal. I'm really excited, but I've got nothing to show."

"You wouldn't've been invited if that were true," said Jane dryly. Anna grinned sheepishly.

"I'm my biggest critic."

"As it should be."

A few more students had drifted in as they spoke. Some nodded at Anna, others were preoccupied with their phones. The professor tutted at that and excused herself to bustle off and prepare for the lesson.

Rapunzel was one of the last to enter the room. She practically bounced over to the still-vacant easel beside Anna.

"Today has been the best day ever," pronounced the brunette. "I love school."

Anna grinned. "Trust you to be the only student on the planet to actually enjoy classes."

"It's not work if you enjoy doing it," said Rapunzel primly.

From the front of the room, Jane cleared her throat, bringing everyone's attention to her. "We're working on figure sketches today," she said, nodding at the slim young man beside her. "You'll have thirty minutes per pose, three poses today. Feel free to use any medium you like, but you'll need to hand in your work at the end of the class." The model – a slim young man – climbed on the dais and adopted a simple pose. "Your first thirty minutes starts now," said Jane.

Anna selected a hard pencil, blocking out the main shapes with quick, deft strokes. Though her hand moved across the canvas and her eye darted in between model and artwork, her mind was elsewhere.

Making the art show was a huge honour. There was a lot of work to be done – selecting the pieces to go on display, writing up the piece descriptions – but all that paled in comparison to her guest.

She'd asked Elsa to attend her art show, and the blonde had said yes.

Her sketch was looking poorly, the limbs of the figure awkward. She frowned, rounding off the edges carefully, using her finger to soften the shadows.

She hadn't been completely honest with Jane. There _were_ a few works she was proud of, along with a new series of pieces she felt there was potential in, but if Anna were to categorize her portfolio according to the works she would want Elsa to see…

… long story short, there was a _lot_ of work to do.

Oh, and she had the second drafts of her client's book covers to finish as well. At least they had liked her first drafts.

Anna scowled. The sketch she was working on acquired rather harsh shadows.

"Time!" called Jane. Anna squinted, eyeing her work critically, and sighed. The model stretched and yawned.

"Replace your canvases, and we'll begin again in five."

Rapunzel leaned over to look at Anna's work. "I like the way you draw shadows," offered the brunette.

"That's just your way of finding something nice to say about a crappy piece," said Anna gloomily.

"Oh, come on. It's not _that_ bad."

Anna glanced over at Rapunzel's work; the model was replicated in intricate hyper-realistic graphite lines, fine cross-hatching giving the impression of volume. "Says you, Michelangelo."

Rapunzel shrugged. "This is just a rough sketch."

Anna snorted.

"If you're stressing out about the Showcase," said Rapunzel as she replaced Anna's and her canvases, "you shouldn't be. I've seen your portfolio and the stuff you did last semester. You've got plenty of stuff to choose from."

"It's not really the Showcase." Anna's attention was divided between the conversation and her work. Instead of continuing with her pencil, she was using softer charcoal instead. Briefly, she wondered whether she should confide her thoughts in her friend. "It's just…"

"Less talk, more sketching," said Jane, leaning in to check on her students' progress. "Good choice of medium, Anna; I like how you're suggesting the pose rather than reproducing it."

"Just?" asked Rapunzel after the professor was gone, pulling a face.

"Just – I'll tell you later."

"Ugh. Fine."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Profuse thanks to **mach5goh** , who was given a preview to read and did not use this gift for evil.

* * *

"So," said Rapunzel. She had the strap of her satchel clutched in front of her as she concentrated on keeping up with Anna.

"That was the worst class ever," lamented the redhead. "I've never been so embarrassed to hand in work like that – no, wait, there was that time in my freshman art history class – "

"Anna – "

" – I put off doing my paper until the night before and then crapped out the entire thing. I drank so much coffee. It was insane."

"Anna!"

"What?" she asked, sounding a little indignant at being interrupted.

"Remember we were talking about the Showcase? And you mentioned having other stuff?"

Anna blinked. "Oh. Right. That."

"So?"

"I'm not ready – I know I'm a senior, but it's the _Showcase_. There are plenty of other talented people. I know that Quasi'll be there, and Belle… and me, I didn't even find my personal style until last semester! And that's not truly my own, there's still a lot of variation and I still mess up things I'm not supposed to – "

Anna cut herself off, blinking, when Rapunzel continued to stare at her.

"Okay, what's with you today?"

Her friend quirked an eyebrow. "I've known you for years. I can tell when you're deflecting. There's something else on your mind, isn't there?"

"… Oh."

"Oh is right. So, you wanna try that again?"

Anna pinked – although it was arguably a result of wheeling herself up a ramp rather than embarrassment – and ducked her head. "I just. There's this friend, and I invited her to the Showcase, but I already showed her some of my old work, and I really really want to impress her but most of my stuff is shit."

Rapunzel stared at her for a moment. "First of all, what? Secondly, _what_?"

"What do you mean, what? Uh, both whats," said Anna.

The other girl threw up her hands, making her satchel jump wildly. "Your work is _not_ shit, Anna. Seriously. You got into Arendelle's Fine Arts program on your portfolio _alone_ – "

"So did you," retorted Anna.

" – you had your sophomore year exam piece nominated for a regional award – "

" – which _you_ won – "

" – and your junior year work won the _state_ award," finished Rapunzel, jerking her chin forward, folding her arms across her chest.

"You came in second," said the redhead lamely.

"So not the point. What I'm trying to say is: You're an amazing artist and you're seriously underselling yourself. Which piece did you show her?"

"From high school, but – "

"Did she like it?"

"I guess so, _but_ – "

"But nothing," said Rapunzel brusquely. "You've definitely, objectively gotten better since high school, so what's there to freak out over?" When an answer wasn't immediately forthcoming, a small smile spread over her face. "… Oh. I see."

"I d-don't know what you're talking about," she squeaked.

"Your secret's safe with me. I've known you since high school, Anna Iversen, when this punk in a wheelchair ran over my foot, and somehow wormed her way into my good graces after that."

That got a smile from Anna. "Serves you right for not wearing shoes," she muttered.

"It's a free country!" Rapunzel said, sounding scandalized. She reached out to gently bop her friend's shoulder with a fist, prompting a small 'ow'. Rapunzel smirked. "Unfortunately, that means punks in ridiculously pimped-out wheelchairs get their freedom of expression as well."

Anna muttered something under her breath about colourblind friends. "I need caffeine," she said loudly and abruptly, pivoting her chair sharply left, "so you buying me a venti mocha would be a great way to start earning my forgiveness."

Rapunzel rolled her eyes. "Okay, but only because she's pretty. She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Rapunzel!"

* * *

" _How's the chair going?"_

 _Anna pondered the question for a moment. "I like being mobile again," she said slowly._

" _Yeah, that's the best bit, isn't it?" Hiccup was a lot more agile now, gamely matching her pace. "Also, the bonus of bicep definition any guy would kill for."_

 _She flexed. He pretended to swoon._

" _No, seriously," said Anna with a laugh, "it's empowering. It reminds me of what my life used to be before – you know. I was beginning to forget."_

 _His expression sobered. "Ah. That, as well."_

" _Minus the mobility aids, of course."_

" _Of course."_

 _She positioned her chair beside the bed, tongue poking out as she concentrated on aligning herself. Hiccup watched as Anna hoisted her butt out of the chair with a grunt, picking up her legs and arranging them on a pillow._

" _Pretty smooth."_

" _Thanks. I've been working on it." Anna flopped back with a sigh. "I'm getting discharged on Friday."_

" _I heard. Excited?"_

" _Not really, I start school the following Monday."_

" _That shouldn't be a problem, you've been doing the homework – you_ have _been doing it, right?"_

" _You've been watching me do it, you dork. If we were in the same year, you would have been copying my answers."_

" _No, you'd been copying mine."_

 _Anna attempted to swat him. "The schoolwork's not the problem."_

 _He shrugged. "I'm just planning on keeping my head down and making it through to graduation. Join the nerdiest clubs, wear a pocket protector, like they do on TV."_

" _Are we even watching the same shows? That's what makes you a prime target for the bullies."_

" _Yeah, but it worked for Bill Gates. Someday prosthetic legs will be the new sexy._

 _Her laughter was half-hearted. Hiccup inched closer and patted her hand._

" _We're still gonna be friends, okay?"_

" _Yeah. I know."_

* * *

"So when were you planning to tell me about you being in the Showcase?" said Kristoff, sounding a little disgruntled.

Anna groaned, slapping her forehead. "Oh, shoot. I forgot to tell you about me being in the Showcase."

"Glad to hear that I'm an important part of your life."

"Shut up. You know I love you."

"Some days I'm beginning to forget," he said dryly, slinging his bag over the back of her chair and pushing her towards the parking lot.

"For the record, I love you, you're my favourite big bro, and I need your help with the prep work."

"It's nice to know you care so much that you'd call me – your _only_ big bro – the instant you got your letter." Kristoff reached over the gear shift to ruffle her hair, eliciting a growl, and started the engine.

"It's not like it was a Hogwarts letter," muttered Anna.

A few blocks later, when they'd stopped at a red light, Kristoff glanced over at her and said: "What are you thinking of showing?"

She perked up visibly. "So you'll help? With no hard feelings?"

"I'm pretty sure I don't have a choice."

"Softy."

He glared at her.

* * *

Hans called Elsa in her office, right at the tail end of a long day. "Rough day?" he asked after she'd answered the phone.

Elsa laughed shortly. "How could you tell?"

"Your tone says kill me now, or bring me coffee. The former's illegal, but I'd be happy to oblige the latter."

She eyed the pile of blueprints on her desk askance. They all needed vetting – a process that required time and effort. Going out for coffee was so very tempting, especially since Nancy was as busy as she was, and there was only the terrible coffee from the machine in the staff breakroom. "You've gotten off work already?"

"The good thing about being a junior partner," said Hans, "is that one can disappear at a certain time without dire consequences. I'll meet you at the coffee place down the block from your office?"

Tempting. It was so tempting.

He chuckled as though he could sense her thoughts. "I'm already there. They have a fresh batch of those chocolate chip muffins you like."

"… Fine. I'll be there in five minutes."

* * *

Hans was seated at a small table in the corner. Two steaming cups and two muffins sat in front of him.

"I got extra whipped cream for you – you sounded like you needed it," he said as she slid into the seat across from him.

"I really do," groaned Elsa, inhaling the rich scent of coffee. The first sip was extremely satisfying; it was exactly as she liked it. "Today it seemed like nobody knew how to do their jobs properly and it was up to me to save the day singlehandedly." She neglected to mention that her editor was jumping down her throat asking for her manuscript draft, and she didn't dare write him back to ask for yet another extension.

Hans chuckled. "Definitely worth that chocolate chip muffin, then."

She nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You're not going back to the office after this, are you?"

Elsa held up her briefcase. "Nope. I'm done for the day, otherwise I'd have to strangle someone. Even I have my limits."

"If coffee and chocolate hasn't suppressed your urge to kill, you really need to destress." He leaned over the table. "I have two tickets for a performance by the philharmonic orchestra this Friday night."

"Friday night?" That rang a bell; Elsa frowned. "Oh – I'm sorry, I've already got something on."

"No worries," said Hans lightly, shrugging. "These things happen. I'll just call the ticket office and change the date."

Elsa felt a little bad. She'd told him once she loved classical music, and Hans had not only remembered, but taken the trouble to get them tickets. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I'd really love to go, but I promised my friend last night."

"And it's really alright," he returned in that same tone of voice. "So what are you going for?"

"My neighbour's a student at the local college, and she was invited to be a part of her school's prestigious art show."

Hans' eyebrows lifted. "Wow, that's impressive. Do pass my congratulations to her."

"Thank you. I will."

"If you don't mind me being nosy, I didn't know you were such good friends with your neighbour." He took a sip of his drink. "I mean, I don't even know half the people on my floor, let alone the guy who lives opposite from me. That's rare these days, you know what I mean?"

Elsa shrugged. For obvious reasons, she didn't feel like going into details with Hans. "It's a long story. We bumped into each other a few times and started talking; I've helped out her a bit."

"Oh, okay." Thankfully, he didn't pry. Hans settled back into his chair and began talking about upcoming orchestra performances and his favourite conductors. Elsa was more than happy to let him commandeer the conversation.

* * *

"Hey, guys."

"It's been a while," said Hiccup jovially as Anna pulled up beside their table. "I was beginning to forget what you looked like."

"Hush." She took the cider from Ariel gratefully. "I've been busy. Between school and work and prep for the showcase I've got coming up, I don't really have the time for a loser like you, Hiccup."

"Ouch."

"While I'm not contesting that description of Hiccup," said Ariel ("Hey," he said indignantly), "he's got a point – exaggerated as it is. We hardly see you these days, and we work in the same studio. Congrats on getting into the Showcase, by the way."

"Thanks. And – what? I'm doing a lot of digital art this semester and my stuff is at home, so…"

"You should make time for us rehab people." Hiccup tried to sneak a sip from Anna's bottle; she scowled and held it out of his reach. "Between the three of us, we only have five legs – four of which are just for show." They all laughed.

"What have you been doing, anyway?" asked Ariel. "I know it isn't studying or working…"

"Har har."

"She's got a girlfriend," said Hiccup dramatically. Anna gaped at him.

"No, I haven't. I'm more single than Kraft cheese at the moment, thank you very much. What about you? Astrid still saving your sorry butt?"

He rolled his eyes at the poor deflection. "Nice try." Hiccup turned to Ariel. "Not girlfriend yet."

"No," she agreed, "but getting there."

"Undoubtedly."

"I can't believe you two," grumbled Anna.

"Well, is it?"

"No!"

"Then what? You're not straight, unless there's something you haven't told us and we've been out of the loop for a _really_ long time…"

"It's nothing! Seriously! Elsa and I are just friends – "

"And we have a name," said Hiccup triumphantly. He high-fived Ariel as Anna groaned.

"… You both suck." She took a moody sip of her cider. "And you're buying me the next drink," added Anna, pointing at Hiccup.

"Worth it."

"Oh, don't stop there!" Ariel leaned closer. "We want to hear more about this wonderful person. What's she like? She must be pretty special, if she actually likes you…"

"Rude."

"I know," interjected Hiccup. "She looks so sweet but actually isn't. Ignore her, Anna. Tell me about Elsa. How'd you know her? Through school?"

"Nah, she's my neighbour, she lives directly opposite me. She drives me to class when the bus was delayed because it's on the way to work for her, and yeah, my legs. We get along quite well, so we ended up as friends." It was a woefully inadequate summary of Elsa, but Anna wasn't sure how much she wanted to share. In her head, the blonde was many wonderful things, but saying them out loud made it dull and inane, completely unlike the young woman herself.

Ariel caught the look in her eyes and nodded thoughtfully. "She sounds lovely," she said, clapping a hand over Hiccup's mouth. "You have to invite her to Purple Parade at the end of this month."

"The end of the month? Is it that time already?"

"Well, while you've been busy hanging out with Elsa, time has passed," intoned Hiccup. "Bring her. We can do the whole triple date thing with Eric and Astrid. I know it's not a date," he added as Anna opened her mouth to protest, cheeks pink, "but at least you have someone with you."

"You guys never had a problem with me bringing Kristoff," said Anna sulkily.

"But we want to meet Elsa."

"Keep this up and you can forget about it. I've heard lunacy is contagious."

* * *

Elsa knew she was overdoing it, but she couldn't help feeling paranoid. "It's just a show, Elsa," she told her reflection sternly, "not a date." The d-word made a shiver pass down her spine.

But yet, half her wardrobe was spread over her bed, desk, and floor, and she had a dress in either hand. Elsa had left work early so she could be home to get dressed; two hours later, and she was no nearer to picking a dress, let alone putting it on. The young CEO growled in frustration.

There was the simple black dress that she liked – her mainstay for any event that was a little dressier than office attire could be. It contrasted with her hair and complexion enough to make it striking. But there was also the new dress she had picked up earlier on a whim; frowning, Elsa held it up critically. It was midnight blue and was cut – _provocatively_ , to say the least. The neckline plunged to meet the hem, and there were no sleeves.

It had been an impulse buy, and Elsa wondered which impulse had been foolish enough for that.

It didn't help that she happened to have shoes to go with the blue dress – another justification for buying it. Elsa felt like the universe was conspiring against her.

With a long-suffering sigh, she put the black dress back into her closet.

* * *

Anna had opted not to go home in the lull period between the end of class and the art show; she had brought a change of clothes to school with her, and Jane had offered to let her store them in her classroom. She was glad as she didn't want to impose on anyone.

"Don't tell the others, or they'll be wanting special privileges too," said the British TA with a wink, and Anna grinned. It was nice, having someone who didn't look at her and see only a wheelchair.

Like Elsa did.

The redhead blushed, quickly banishing the thought to the back of her mind. It occurred to her then that she had not been paying attention to her colouring for the past five minutes, and the Photoshop layers were a horrible mess. She stabbed the delete button repeatedly. She was being ridiculous, as always. Elsa was a nice person who happened to live opposite her, and they were just starting what felt like a strong friendship Anna would cherish for the rest of her life.

That would have been very reassuring if it hadn't been the same monologue that preceded her last relationship.

Anna fought the urge to slam her forehead into her keyboard. All the teasing was finally getting to her.

Finally, the class dragged to an end, and Anna practically launched herself out of the room, towards the main hall. Kristoff was waiting outside for her.

"Finally," he said. "I was beginning to think you fell asleep – again – and I would have to do the show by myself."

"Perish the thought." Anna let herself in, Kristoff following behind, and wheeled over to where her works were placed. She inspected them thoroughly, making sure the information placards were accurate, the lights were properly positioned. Behind them, other students drifted in to check on their own works. Now and then she said something to Kristoff, who reached out to make the necessary adjustments.

"Everything looks great," said Anna eventually. "Time to get dressed."

* * *

It was a novelty not to simply drive off after pulling into the school, but to park in the lot.

Anna had told her to wait on the porch. Elsa pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders; the cool spring air was nippy at night. From her place, she could vaguely see lights from the other end; Elsa guessed that was where the art show was taking place. She imagined Anna, being adorably over-excited about her work, and smiled.

Somewhere along the way, the thought of Anna no longer made her cringe or feel guilty, but was fond and warm. With a sudden sinking feeling, Elsa realised that it was no exactly the most ideal of developments.

She still had yet to tell Anna – and with each passing day, it grew harder. Anna had even invited her to her show. Elsa was in too deep. She was becoming attached to Anna, and if the redhead took her confession badly – as was within her rights – could she deal with the loss of their friendship?

"Elsa?"

She was rudely shaken out of her thoughts. "Anna," said Elsa, smiling. "Hey."

The redhead was out of her usual sweater and faded jeans, wearing a green button-down shirt and neat black jeans, feet tucked into black sneakers. Her hair was in a bun at the base of her neck, accentuated with a green ribbon. "Ugh, sorry. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I've only just got here."

"Okay. Uh – shall we?" Anna cocked her head to the side, and Elsa descended the stairs to join her.

"Are you nervous?" asked Elsa. It was a moot point – judging from the way Anna was gnawing on her lower lip – but she needed to fill the awkward silence.

"A little," replied Anna with a little laugh. "But most of the hard work's done. I just have to hang around and answer any questions." The redhead tapped her chest, and Elsa noticed the badge that was pinned there.

"How many works are you displaying?"

"Three. There's no maximum or minimum limit on pieces we can show or mediums, though our choices are curated by the dean. Mine are all illustrations because that's all I was working on last year." They were almost to the hall, close enough to hear the murmur of voices from inside. "Two of them are mixed media, and one in oils."

"You paint in oil?" It was something Elsa associated with art museums and classic paintings, and she was very impressed. It showed in her voice; Anna blushed.

"Just a bit. I took classes in some of the traditional art mediums last semester just to get my basics down – watercolours, oil, and sculpture. I'm still more comfortable with digital art, though. I need my layers." Anna slowed so she could take hold of the door handle, pulling it open and gesturing for Elsa to go in.

The interior looked exactly like an art museum – albeit it was more crowded, and the atmosphere was lively. Anna frowned, scanning the crowd. "Where's Kristoff – whoa."

She had turned her head and was staring at Elsa as though seeing her for the first time; mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

"What is it?" asked Elsa, feeling self-conscious.

"Wow, um," began Anna, clearing her throat and laughing nervously, "it's just an art show, Elsa; you didn't have to dress up."

Now it was Elsa's turn to blush, glancing down at her dress and heels, the black shawl thrown over her shoulders. "I didn't think I was dressing up… I've never been to an art show before, and I didn't want to embarrass you or anything…"

"I – no, of course not! It's my fault, I should have told you about the dress code or something." Anna smacked her forehead. "Ugh, dumbass. I'm really sorry, Elsa, I didn't mean to stare like that. It's just that you look gorgeous and – gah, should shut up now."

Elsa was mortified enough to miss the compliment. She bit her lip and nodded, not making a comment on Anna's rambling.

"Uh." The redhead waved her hands around. "So. My stuff's over here."

"Okay."

It was hard for them to progress; the hall wasn't absolutely packed, but there were enough people to obstruct Anna's path and force her to stop and maneuver her chair around them. There were a few incidents when Elsa was genuinely impressed by the redhead's dexterity.

"Anna?"

"Yeah?" she huffed, a little annoyed by their slow movement.

"May I suggest something?"

From the quick glance downwards, Anna guessed it had something to do with her wheelchair. She smiled warmly, leaning forward to pat Elsa's hand to let the blonde know she wasn't going to be offended. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

"Well – maybe it would be better if I were to guide you through?"

"Actually, that's a good idea. I'm a little tired." It wasn't an outright lie; Anna could propel her chair in a straight line for hours on end, but all of the zigzagging and constant halts were tiring, and her shirt was a little damp with sweat. She had swapped her fingerless gloves for full mittens because of the cold, reducing her control. "I hope you take direction well," she joked.

Elsa smiled at her, and then grasped the handles of her chair; Anna nodded at her and settled back to enjoy the ride. A few outings together had taught the blonde some skills in pushing the chair, and it was no trouble for her to reach the far end of the hall. "There," said Anna, pointing to the corner.

"They put your stuff in the corner?" Elsa sounded incredulous, almost bristling with indignant anger, and Anna found it adorable.

"Yes, but only because it fits in with the theme. They're not discriminating against me, or anything like that." One of the advantages of being in the corner of the hall was that they had more room to move around, and Anna took full advantage of that, spinning her chair around to skid to a halt in front of the first piece.

"This is _Joan of Arc_ ," said Anna.

The digital painting was slightly smaller than a television set. Most of the frame was occupied by the profile of a person in full armour, the visor up to show delicate features, the hint of pink in cheeks and lips. There was a white banner in the background. While the background had been rendered in bright comic-book style colours, there was a rounded softness and light saturation in the figure itself that made it look like it had been painted with oils.

"It's beautiful," said Elsa.

Anna beamed. "This over here is _The Swing_."

This was clearly a digital painting. Unlike the refined appearance of the first work, this had crisp lines and muted colours. It depicted a redheaded girl standing on a swing, her head thrown back in laughter, her dress billowing around her stockinged legs.

Elsa chose not to mention the fact that the girl in the painting resembled Anna.

The redhead was already looking past her at the last work on display. "And this," she said happily, "is called _The Snow Queen_."

The painting was large, almost the size of Elsa's front door. At the first glance, it was done entirely in blue and white, ice and snow; when Elsa bent forward to take a closer look, she could see the blues and whites weren't purely so, but composed of so many more shades; purple, red, yellow, grey were those she could discern, but there were other hues falling in between. The subject was a fabulous castle that was apparently (judging from its surroundings) constructed of ice, but the ice itself was a muted rainbow of colours.

Elsa let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. "Anna, this… this is _wonderful_."

The redhead was grinning. "Now this one, I'm actually proud of," she said. "It took me most of last semester to do, and you won't believe how many rejects I went through."

Elsa blinked. "This is the one done in oils?" she asked, her eye falling on the uneven paint strokes on the canvas.

"Yep. The other two were done digitally with touch-ups done using real oil and watercolours. This one is all elbow grease. No Ctrl-Z here." She laughed at her own joke. "Hey, how much are they charging for it?"

The question snapped Elsa out of her reverie. "Charging?"

Anna pointed at the rectangular white sticker underneath the information placard. "Yeah, all the art on display tonight is for sale. The proceeds go to charity." She leaned in and whistled lowly. "Wow, that much? They do think highly of me."

"Anna," said Elsa a little severely, "your work is beautiful and worth every cent."

Anna squirmed in her chair. "…. You're not saying that just because you're my friend?"

"I mean it," said Elsa, and did.

Before the redhead could respond, some people approached them and after glimpsing the badge that Anna wore, started asking her technical questions about her work. Anna shot Elsa an apologetic shrug and smile.

While Anna talked, Elsa took out her phone and made a quick call.

"Sorry about that," said Anna once the group had left, "duty calls."

Elsa tore her eyes away from the fantastic Gothic church model in the space nearby and smiled at Anna. "No problem at all."

"I, uh, have to stick around a little longer – " Anna checked her wristwatch, " – an hour maximum, so I'm going to have to ask you to entertain yourself until then? I'd love to take you around, but I have to answer questions about my stuff. Once I'm done with my duties for the evening, we can go on that grand tour as promised."

Elsa smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Awesome." With a jaunty wave, Anna wheeled away from Elsa and towards the next group of people murmuring appreciatively at her works.

* * *

Elsa was a little ashamed of herself. She was an art lover, and yet hadn't known about the Showcase even though she had graduated from the university. Nevertheless, it felt nice that she was now able to afford the artwork.

Surrounded by enthusiastic young students, she felt like a fish out of water. Elsa had grown up too quickly after the accident.

In other parts of the hall, she was grateful for the organizers' decision to put Anna's work in the corner; the bulk of traffic thronged the walkways and made it hard for her to slip through, let alone a wheelchair.

As Anna had mentioned, the dress code was rather casual given the event had sounded formal. Most of the attendees looked like students – presumably there to support classmates who were participating. But there were a few older people who were peering at the placards, speaking with the artists.

Elsa continued to watch a middle-aged couple as they talked to a girl with choppy brown hair. Not long after, the girl squealed in delight and shook both their hands, continuing to wave as they left.

The artwork she was standing in front of was rather impressive. It reminded Elsa of colourful street art she had seen when traveling overseas with her father, except the pictures looked like they told a story – there were two characters that showed up in various parts of the work.

"Sorry, it's been sold," said the girl. Elsa smiled and shook her head. "That's a pity. It's beautiful."

"Thanks." She ducked her head shyly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet – quite literally, as Elsa belatedly noticed she wasn't wearing shoes. "I'm glad you like it."

"I really do." If she hadn't chosen to study architecture or write novels, Elsa had entertained the idea of making art. There was something about producing magnificent things of beauty that appealed to her.

* * *

"Hey, you're back!" Anna came up to her, grinning widely. "Had fun?"

"Definitely." Elsa's expression changed. "Did you get to see the other things on display?"

"Oh, yeah. My TA let me in early. I had full run of the place. Don't worry about me."

"Oh. Good."

"Anyway, I'm done. My replacement'll be here in a minute – I think he got distracted by the glacier-inspired sculptures over there – but we can leave first?"

"Sure."

"Hell yeah." Anna's smile became a full grin, and she practically tore the badge off her chest. "Let's go."

* * *

"So this is my life drawing classroom," said Anna, waving to a door on the left, "where I draw nude models and try not to drown my classmates in drool."

Elsa laughed. "Definitely more exciting than my college days."

"In terms of skin on display? I'm sure."

"I know this is going to make me sound old, but back in my day, we spent a lot of time in the materials lab. Not much time spent socializing."

"We spend our lives chained in the studio, I suppose that's close enough." Anna turned right at the next corner. "But this is my corner of hell."

"Your studio, you mean?"

"Sure, technically," said Anna with a grin. "Well, I share it with a whole bunch of my classmates," she shrugged, "but there is a messy corner here that is filled with my junk." Anna pulled a bunch of keys out of her pocket and opened the door, flipping the switch as she entered (technically it was a jury-rigged construction at her level that flipped the real switch, which Elsa found endearing).

On first glance, it was reminiscent of an abandoned warehouse – piled high and higgledy-piggledy with objects of all sizes. Paint spatters marked the ghosts of past projects. Elsa couldn't stop looking around her as she followed Anna through the unofficial lanes. Throughout the walk, the redhead kept up a running commentary: "This is Quasi's spot, he's got an entire diorama of Paris on display downstairs – remind me to show you afterwards – and Punzie's things. She specializes in Renaissance art, so she does a lot of frescoes. Toulouse is this exchange student from France, his idol is Jackson Pollock, his neighbours hate him because of all the paint he throws about…"

Elsa was enthralled. It was a completely different world from what she was used to; where her work was plain orderly lines, her surroundings were a riot of colour and forms.

"You can touch most stuff," said Anna, noticing Elsa's hand hovering in front of her as she stared at a large sculpture of a black dragon. "There isn't anybody working with delicate materials this semester, so you won't destroy anything."

The blonde nodded. Her fingertips grazed the dragon's snout, and she gasped a little at the sensation. "It feels real."

"Yeah, that's my friend Hiccup's project. I think he's aiming for a job in a movie creature workshop."

"He'll definitely get it," said Elsa earnestly. She wandered from item to item, completely fascinated by each and every thing. Anna waited for her, a small smile on her face.

"That's my workspace," pointed out the redhead.

Obediently, Elsa turned to look where Anna was pointing. Unlike the other areas, Anna's floor space was mostly free of clutter, though there was a lot of junk arranged around the room. "I like working on several projects at a time," explained Anna, wheeling herself over to the easel in the centre. "Most of my digital work is at home, so I haven't been spending a lot of time here in the studio recently, though I did do a bit of touch-up on the ice castle painting to get it ready for the show."

"I like the way you arranged things," commented Elsa. "Maybe you'd have a future in architecture?"

Anna laughed. "If you think doughnut-shaped layouts are the next big thing, then sure." She pushed herself forward, letting her chair coast across the room and back in front of the entrance. "We should be going, though," said the artist, checking her watch, "I do need to check back with the organizers and see if anyone's bought my stuff. I hope not. There's a ton of paperwork."

Elsa joined in the laughter, though hers was a tad uneasy. "Lead the way."

* * *

Kristoff was hovering around Anna's little corner of the show; he hurried closer when he spotted them. "There you are," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Somebody bought your stuff."

Anna blinked. "They did? Which one?"

"All of them."

"Um… Come again?"

He waved a hand at the artworks. Each one now sported a small circular green sticker in their lower right corners.

"Congratulations, Anna. That's amazing," said Elsa. Anna seemed not to hear her as delight spread over her face. She pumped her fist in the air (narrowly missing Kristoff), letting out a whoop.

"I'm a real artist!"

"A step up from starving artist, yep," said Kristoff, but he leaned down to throw an arm around her, ruffling her hair with a free hand. Anna yelped and pushed at him. "Eat your heart out, Picasso."

"Stop making fun of me," growled Anna, but there was no real anger in her words. Even as she pretended to glare at her foster brother, her grin threatened to show through the mock scowl.

* * *

The next morning, Elsa went into the office at her usual timing. Her weekend had been filled with paperwork, but she felt strangely well-rested.

Nancy was at her desk. The secretary looked up when her boss arrived. "The packages just got here," she said, nodding at the three large brown paper-wrapped objects leaning against the wall. "What do you want to do with them?"

Elsa placed a hand on one of the packages. "Unwrap this one and put it in the reception room." As Nancy nodded, Elsa continued: "Please deliver this to Mr Marshall Petersen; I'll pass you the address. And this one…" A small smile played over Elsa's face. "Put this one in my office."

"Alright." Nancy unwrapped the largest one, whistling in surprise. "It's beautiful."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Though I'm a little surprised that you not only bought art, but had to ask me to buy them on your behalf."

Elsa bent closer as she pretended to study the brushwork of _The Snow Queen_. "You can't blame me for wanting to purchase these. They'll make a wonderful addition to the office, won't they?" She straightened. "I have a few phone calls to make. Please come and get Mr. Petersen's address from me later," called Elsa over her shoulder.

"Yes, boss."

* * *

Marshall's brow was furrowed in confusion as he gazed at his newly-acquired painting, his phone in his hand. The instant the call connected, he said: "I hope this is some sort of apology for not sending in your latest chapter on time, because otherwise I'm confused. What does a girl in armour have to do with a murder mystery? Is this a gimmick? Have we decided we're doing murder mystery gimmicks?"


End file.
